THE 
FURTHER 
SIDE    OF 

SILENCE 

SIR  HUGH 
CLIFFORD 


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OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

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THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


Malayan  Monochromes 
The  Downfall  of  the  Gods 

Further  India 
Studies  in  Brown  Humanity 


The  Further  Side 
of  Silence 


By 
Sir  Hugh  Clifford,  K.  C.  M.  G. 


Garden  (^iiy,  New  York,  Toronto 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 


Copyriyht,  1016,  1022,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,    PaGE    &    COMPANY 

All  rights  re.ienrd,  including  that  of 

trmislation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


PRIN'TIU)  IN  THK  I  NITF.l)  yfAIKS 

AT 

THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN'  CITY,  X.  Y. 


CoUege 
Library 

(oOOb 


TO  MY  WIFE 


Je  vols  bien  vos  mains 
Fermees  au  mal,  ouvertes  au  bien, 
Vos  mains  puissantes  et  douces 
Corame  une  branche  sous  la  mousse. 

Je  vois  bien  vos  mains, 
Vos  mains  fideles. 
Qui  me  montrent  le  chemin, 
Mais  je  ne  vois  pas  vas  ailes. 


Christiansborg  Castle 
Gold  Coast,  May  lo,  191 6 


1164020 


PREFACE 

NOBODY,  I  am  assured,  ever  reads  a  preface. 
I  cotisider,  therefore,  that  I  may  safely  re- 
gard this  foreword  as  a  confidential  docu- 
ment, written  for  the  sole  purpose  of  salving  my  own 
sensitive  conscience.  From  this  point  of  view  I 
regard  it  as  necessary,  for  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
imposture  involved  in  isauing  as  a  work  of  fiction  a 
volinne  which  is  in  the  main  a  record  of  fact,  should 
be  frankly  confessed  from  the  outset.  A  knowledge 
of  the  truth  that  these  initial  pages  will  remain  to 
some  extent  a  secret  between  me,  the  proofreader, 
and  the  printer,  will  enable  me,  however,  to  write  of 
personal  things  with  a  larger  measure  of  freedom 
than  I  should  otherwise  be  bold  enough  to  use. 

The  stories  composing  this  book,  with  a  single  ex- 
ception— ^"The  Ghoul,"  which  reached  me  at  second 
liand — are  all  relations  of  incidents  in  which  I  have 
had  a  part,  or  in  which  the  principal  actors  have  been 
familiarly  known  to  me.  They  faithfully  reproduce 
conditions  of  life  as  they  existed  in  the  Malayan 
Peninsula  before  the  white  men  took  a  hand  in  the 
government  of  the  native  states,  or  immediately 
after  our  coming — things  as  I  knew  them  between 
188.']  and  1903 — the  twenty  years  that  I  passed  in 
I  hat  most  beautiful  and  at  one  time  little  frequented 


viii  rREFACE 

corner  of  Asia.  They  are  written  with  a  full  ap- 
preciation of  the  native  point  of  view,  and  of  a  people 
for  whom  I  entertain  much  aflPection  and  sympathy. 
Incidentally,  however,  they  will  perhaps  help  to 
explain  why  British  civil  servants  in  the  East  oc- 
casionally lay  themselves  open  to  the  charge  of 
being  animated  by  "a  hungry  acquisitiveness"  and 
a  passion  for  annexing  the  territory  of  their  native 
neighbours. 

Fate  and  a  rather  courageous  Colonial  Governor 
ordained  that  I  should  be  sent  on  a  special  mission 
to  the  Sultan  of  Pahang — a  large  Malayan  state 
on  the  eastern  seaboard  of  the  Peninsula — before 
I  was  quite  one  and  twenty  years  of  age.  This 
course  was  not,  at  the  time,  as  reckless  and  desperate 
as  it  sounds.  I  had  already  more  than  three  years' 
service  and  had  acquired  what  was  reckoned  an 
unusual  acquaintance  with  the  vernacular.  The 
mission  would  entail  a  long  overland  journey  and 
an  absence  of  more  than  three  months'  duration. 
Senior  men  who  possessed  the  necessary  qualifica- 
tions could  not  be  spared  for  so  protracted  a  period, 
and  thus  the  choice  fell  upon  me,  to  my  very  great 
content. 

My  object  was  to  obtain  from  the  Sultan  the 
promise  of  a  treaty  surrendering  the  management 
of  his  foreign  relations  to  the  British  Government, 
and  accepting  the  appointment  of  a  Political  Agent 
at  his  court.  This  I  obtained  and  bore  in  triumph 
to  Singapore,  whence  I  immediately  returned  to 
negotiate  the  details  of  the  treaty,  and  subsequently 


PREFACE  ix 

to  reside  at  the  Sultan's  court  as  the  Agent  in  ques- 
tion. 

This  meant  that  I  was  privileged  to  live  for  nearly 
two  years  in  complete  isolation  among  the  Malays 
in  a  native  state  which  was  annually  cut  off  from 
tlie  outside  world  from  October  to  March  by  the 
fury  of  the  northeast  monsoon;  that  this  befell  me 
at  iJerhaps  the  most  impressionable  period  of  my 
life;  that  having  already  acquired  considerable  fa- 
miliarity with  the  people,  their  ideas  and  their 
language,  I  was  afforded  an  unusual  opportunity  of 
completing  and  perfecting  my  knowledge;  and  that 
circumstances  compelled  me  to  live  in  a  native  hut, 
on  native  food,  and  in  native  fashion,  in  the  company 
of  a  couple  of  dozen  Malays — friends  of  mine,  from 
the  western  side  of  the  Peninsula,  who  had  elected 
to  follow  my  fortunes.  Rarely  seeing  a  white  face 
or  speaking  a  word  of  my  own  tongue,  it  thus  fell 
to  my  lot  to  be  admitted  to  les  coulisses  of  life  in  a 
native  state,  as  it  was  before  the  influence  of  Euro- 
peans had  tampered  with  its  eccentricities. 

Pahang,  when  I  entered  it  in  1887,  presented  an 
almost  exact  counterpart  to  the  feudal  kingdoms 
of  mediieval  Europe.  I  saw  it  pass  under  the  "pro- 
tection" of  Great  Britain,  which  in  this  case  was 
barely  distinguishable  from  "annexation."  I  sub- 
sequently spent  a  year  or  so  fighting  in  dense  forests 
to  make  that  protection  a  permanency,  for  some 
of  the  chiefs  resented  our  encroachment  upon 
their  prerogatives;  and  when  I  quitted  the  land 
a  decade  and  a  half  later,  it  was  as  safe  and  ah 


X  PREFACE 

most  as  peaceful  and  orderly  as  an  English  country- 
side. 

Thus  at  a  preposterously  early  age  I  was  the 
principal  instrument  in  adding  15,000  square  miles 
of  territory  to  the  British  dependencies  in  the  East; 
and  this  fact  forces  me  to  the  conclusion  that  my 
share  in  the  business  stands  in  need  of  some  ex- 
planation and  defence,  if  readers  who  are  not  them- 
selves Britishers  are  to  be  persuaded  that  I  am  not 
merely  a  thief  upon  a  rather  large  scale.  The 
stories  and  sketches  contained  in  this  book  supply 
me  with  both.  I,  who  write,  have  with  my  own 
eyes  seen  the  Malayan  prison;  have  lived  at  a 
Malayan  court;  have  shared  the  hfe  of  the  people 
of  all  ranks  and  classes  in  their  towns  and  villages, 
in  their  rice-fields,  on  their  rivers,  and  in  the  mag- 
nificent forests  which  cover  the  face  of  their  country. 
I  have  travelled  with  them  on  foot,  by  boats,  and 
raft.  I  have  fought  with  and  against  them.  I  have 
camped  with  the  downtrodden  aboriginal  tribes 
of  jungle-dwelling  Sakai  and  Semang,  and  have  heard 
from  their  own  Hps  the  tales  of  their  miseries.  I 
have  watched  at  close  quarters,  and  in  intolerable 
impotency  to  aid  or  save,  the  lives  which  all  these 
people  lived  before  the  white  men  came  to  defend 
their  weakness  against  the  oppression  and  the  wrong 
wrought  to  them  by  tyrants  of  their  own  race;  and 
I  have  seen  them  gradually  emerge  from  the  dark 
shadow  in  which  their  days  were  passed,  into  the 
daylight  of  a  personal  freedom  such  as  white  men 
prize  above  most  mundane  things. 


PREFACE  xi 

The  late  Sir  Henry  Campbell-Bannerman,  a 
recent  British  Prime  Minister,  once  gave  vent  to 
the  aphorism  that  "good  government  can  never  be 
a  satisfactory  substitute  for  self-government."  That 
may  or  may  not  be  true;  but  the  Malays,  be  it 
remembered,  never  possessed  "self-government." 
The  rule  of  their  rajas  and  chiefs  was  one  of  the 
most  absolute  and  cynical  autocracies  that  the  mind 
of  man  has  conceived;  and  the  people  living  under 
it  were  mercilessly  exploited,  and  possessed  no  rights 
either  of  person  or  of  property.  To  their  case, 
therefore,  the  phrase  quoted  above  has  only  the 
most  remote  and  academical  application;  but  no 
words  or  sentiments,  no  matter  how  generous  or 
beautiful,  would  avail  to  staunch  the  blood  which  I 
saw  flow,  or  to  dry  the  tears  which  I  saw  shed  in 
Pahang  when  I  lived  in  that  native  state  under  its 
own  administration. 

If,  then,  my  stories  move  you  at  all,  and  if  they 
inspire  in  you  any  measure  of  pity  or  of  desire  to 
see  the  weak  protected  and  their  wrongs  avenged, 
you  may  judge  how  passionate  was  the  determina- 
tion to  make  the  recurrence  of  such  things  impossible 
whereby  I  and  my  fellow  workers  in  Malaya  were 
inspired.  For  we,  alas,  lived  in  the  midst  of  the 
happenings  of  which  you  only  read. 

Hugh  Clifford, 

Government  House, 
The  Gold  Coast, 
British  West  Africa. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Preface vii 

I.     The  Further  Side  of  Silence       .      .  3 

II.     The  Were- tiger 40 

Til.     The     Experiences     of     R^ja     Haji 

Hamid 56 

IV.      Droii  Du  Seigneur     .....  65 

V.     In  the  Valley  of  the  T^lom  .    -  .      .  77 

VI.     The  Inner  Apartment     ....  103 

VII.     The  Ghoul .  115 

VIII.     A  Malayan  Prison 135 

IX.     He  of  the  Hairy  Face      ....  148 
X.     The  Flight  of  Chep,  the  Bird     .      .166 

XL     A  Daughter  of  the  Muhammadans  .  187 
XII.     The    Lone-hand    Raid     of     Ktilop 

Sumbing 215 

XIII.  The  Flight  of  the  Jungle-folk     .      .  244 

XIV.  One  Who  Had  Eaten  My  Rice  .       .  272 
XV.     At  a  Malayan  Court       ....  299 

XVI.     The  Amok  of  Dato'  Kaja  Blji  Derja  319 

XVII.     A  Malayan  Actor-manager  .      .      .341 

XVIIL    Tukang  Bilrok's  Story     ....  358 

XIX.    In  Chains 375 

L'Envoi 406 

xiii 


SIR   HUGH   CLIFFORD 

By  RICHARD  Le  GALLIENNE 

THOI'GH  these  powerful  and  beautiful  stories 
liave  already  reached  a  wide  audience,  they 
deserve  a  wider,  and  readers  to  whom  they 
are  still  unknown  are  missing  an  imaginative  pleasure 
such  as  can  be  found  in  no  other  writers  of  my  ac^ 
quaintance  except  Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling  and  Mr. 
Joseph  Conrad,  with  whom,  because  of  his  subject- 
matter,  it  is  natural  to  class  Sir  Hugh  Clifford;  as  I 
see  James  Huneker  has  done  before  me.  So  far  as 
treatment  is  concerned,  however,  Sir  Hugh  Clifford 
owes  nothing  to  those  writers.  His  method  is  his 
own  and  his  experience,  out  of  which  his  stories,  as 
he  tells  us,  have  sprung,  is  perhaps  even  more  his 
own  than  theirs.  For,  with  the  one  exception  of 
"The  Ghoul" — as  Sir  Hugh  Clifford  tells  us  in  his 
own  preface,  itself  a  thrilling  document — these 
stories  are  veritable^  stuff  of  his  own  life  as  a  British 
(Government  official.  He  has  seen  these  happenings 
with  his  own  eyes,  and  known  the  actors  in  them. 
To  have  done  that,  when  little  more  than  a  boy,  is 
a  romance  in  itself,  one  of  those  romantic  opportuni- 
ties which  more  than  once  luiA'e  repaid  the  servants 
of  the  "far-Hung"   Britisii    lOmpire  for  the  hazards 


xvi  SIR  HUGH  CLIFFORD 

and  the  ennui  of  a  service,  the  loyalty  and  efficiency 
of  which  have  made  that  empire.  Thus,  as  Sir 
Hugh  Clifford  himself  laughingly  observes,  "at  a 
preposterously  early  age,"  he  was  "the  principal 
instrument  in  adding  15,000  square  miles  of  terri- 
tory to  the  British  dependencies  in  the  East;" 
while  incidentally,  as  has  so  often  happened  in 
England's  "island  story,"  finding  himself,  in  the 
interval  of  his  governmental  occupations,  as  a  literary 
artist.  A  book  might  well  be  written  of  governors, 
cavalry  officers,  and  civil  servants,  of  his  Britannic 
Majesty,  who  have  thus  light-heartedly  w6n  dis- 
Unction,  by  amusing  themselves  with  their  pens  in 
the  exile  of  their  lonely  out-posts,  doing  the  filing 
only  for  fun,  regarding  themselves  mereh-  as  ama- 
teurs, and  discovering  their  gifts  by  chance.  Far 
from  amateurs  indeed  they  have  often  proved,  but 
on  the  contrary  lineal  descendants  of  those  "com- 
plete" men  and  gentlemen  of  old  time,  to  whom  tlie 
sword  and  the  pen  came  alike  naturally,  such  as  was, 
to  name  but  one,  that  Charles  Sackville,  Earl  of 
Dorset,  who  wrote  at  sea,  while  commanding  the 
British  fleet,  one  of  the  most  fascinating  sea-songs 
in  the  language — 

To  all  you  ladies  now  at  land 
We  men  at  sea  indite. 

One  would  like  to  be  introduced  to  tlie  "})rofes- 
sional  writer"  who  could  write  a  love-story  stranger 
and  more  beautiful  with  such  a  |)oignant  heart- 
break in  it,  and  with  so  magical  a  setting,  as  that 


SIR  HUGH  CLIFFORD  xvii 

which  gives  the  title  to  this  volume — "The  Further 
Side  of  Silence."  Mr.  W.  H.  Hudson  himself  in 
"Green  Mansions"  has  not  given  us  a  lovelier  "belle 
sauvage"  than  Pi-Xoi  as  she  first  blossoms  on  the 
eyes  of  her  future  lover,  Kria,  from  the  primeval 
forest,  while  he  paddles  up  the  Telom  River  one  fate- 
ful day: 

"A  clear,  bell-like  call  thrilled  from  out  the  first, 
so  close  at  hand  that  the  surprise  of  it  made  Kria 
jiunp  and  nearly  drop  his  paddle;  and  then  came 
a  ripple  of  words,  like  little  drops  of  crystal,  which 
made  e\'en  the  rude  Sakai  tongue  a  thing  of  music, 
freshness,  and  youth.  Next  the  shrubs  on  the  bank 
were  parted  by  human  hands,  and  Pi-Noi — Breeze 
of  the  Forest  emerging  suddenly,  stepped  straight- 
way into  Kria's  life  and  into  the  innermost  heart  of 
him." 

The  story  is  here  for  the  reader  to  enjoy  and  study 
for  himself,  for  it  is  worth  studying  as  well  as  enjoy- 
ing for  the  subtle,  modulated  treatment  of  the  wild 
soul  of  little  Pi-Noi,  for  whom  the  creatures  of  the 
forest  and  the  forest  itself  are  more  her  comrades 
and  intimates  than  any  human  beings,  and  whose 
necessity  to  play  truant  with  them  at  intervals  even 
from  her  lover  makes  so  piteous  a  tragedy. 

One  other  observation  suggests  itself — how  the 
"civilizing"  work  on  which  Sir  Hugh  Clifford  was 
engaged  inevitably  destroys  the  romance  which 
he  thus  perpetuates;  for  alas!  that  romance  can 
only  live  so  long  as  the  superstition  and  cruelty 
which  it  was  the  British  Commissioner's  business  to 


xviii  SIR  HUGH  CLIFFORD 

up-root  survive  in  their  native  dramatic  combina- 
tions. With  the  aboHtion  of  such  tyrants  as  we 
read  of  in  "Droit  du  Seigneur,"  the  Malay  Peninsula 
becomes,  to  use  Sir  Hugh  Clifford's  own  words,  "as 
safe  and  almost  as  peaceful  and  orderly  as  an  English 
countryside."  But  the  trouble  with  making  the 
world  safe  for  democracy  and  other  things  is  that 
it  makes  it  entirely  unsafe  for  Romance.  Sir  Hugh 
Clifford  did  his  governmental  work  so  well  in  Pahang 
that  probably  if  he  returned  there  to-day  he  would 
find  no  stories  to  write! 


THE  FITRTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 


SOME  years  before  the  impassive  British 
Government  came  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
primitive  nature  and  to  put  an  end  to  the 
strife  of  primitive  man,  Kria,  son  of  Mat,  a  young 
Malay  from  one  of  the  western  states,  sneaked  up 
into  the  Telom  and  estabhshed  himself  as  a  trader 
on  its  banks  well  within  the  fringe  of  the  Sakai 
country. 

Aided  by  a  few  Sakai — feeble  and  timid  jungle- 
folk,  the  aboriginal  possessors  of  the  Peninsula- — 
but  mainly  with  his  own  hands,  he  built  himself 
a  house  with  walls  of  thick,  brown  bark,  raised  to  a 
height  of  some  six  feet  above  the  ground  on  stout, 
rough-hewn  uprights,  and  securely  thatched  with 
bertam  palm  leaves.  It  was  a  rude  enough  affair, 
as  Malay  houses  go,  but  compared  with  the  primitive 
and  lopsided  architecture  of  the  Sakai  it  was  palatial. 
The  fact  that  this  stranger  had  planned  and  built 
such  a  mansion  impressed  the  fact  of  his  innate 
racial  superiority  upon  the  jungle-dwellers  once  and 
for  all.  Here,  they  saw,  was  Genius,  no  less;  though 
their  language  (which  among  other  things  has  only 
three  numerals  and  as  many  names  for  colours)  con- 
tained no  word  even  remotely  conveying  any  such 

s 


4        THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

idea.  The  mere  fact  that  their  poor  vocabulary 
was  straightway  beggared  by  the  effort  to  express 
their  admiration,  left  them  mentally  gasping;  where- 
fore Kria,  son  of  Mat,  a  very  ordinary  young  Malay, 
endowed,  as  it  chanced,  with  few  of  the  forceful 
quahties  of  his  race,  found  himself  of  a  sudden  an 
object  of  almost  superstitious  hero-worship. 

Kria  presently  made  the  discovery  anent  solitude 
which  is  attributed  to  Adam.  He  was  a  Malay  and 
a  Muhammadan,  to  whom  the  naked,  pantheistical 
Sakai  is  a  dog  of  indescribable  uncleanliness.  Thirty 
miles  down  river  there  was  a  Malay  village  where 
many  maidens  of  his  own  breed  were  to  be  had, 
almost  for  the  asking,  from  their  grateful  parents 
by  a  man  so  well-to-do  as  Kria  had  now  be*3ome; 
but  these  ladies  were  hard-bit,  ill-favoured  young 
women,  prematurely  gnarled  by  labour  in  the  rice- 
fields  and  tanned  to  the  colour  of  the  bottom  of  a 
cooking-pot  by  exposure  to  sun  and  weather.  Or- 
dinarily, however,  the  aggressive  plainness  of  these 
damsels  might  not  have  affected  the  issue;  but  it 
chanced  that  the  particular  devil  whose  province 
it  is  to  look  after  mesalliances  was  as  busy  here  in 
this  hidden  nook  of  the  forest  as  ever  he  is  in  May- 
fair.  It  was  surely  bj'  his  contrivance  that  Kria, 
Malay  and  Muhammadan  that  he  was,  fixed  hi.s 
heart  upon  a  Sakai  girl — herself  the  daughter  of 
Sakai,  nude,  barbarous,  and  disreputable — and  th(^ 
blame  may  with  greater  certainty  be  allotted  to 
him,  because  Kria's  first  meeting  with  her  was  in 
no  sense  of  his  seeking. 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE        5 

He  had  come  up  the  Telom  one  day  from  his  new 
house  in  a  dugout  imported  from  down-country, 
whose  finish  converted  it,  in  the  eyes  of  his  neigh- 
bours, into  a  floating  miracle.  Kria  sat  lordly  in 
the  stern,  steering  the  little  craft  with  a  heavy 
wooden  paddle,  while  two  sweating  and  straining 
Sakai  punted  her  forward  against  the  rush  of  the 
current.  He  wore  the  loose  blouse,  serviceable  short 
pants,  huddled,  many-coloured  waistcloth,  and  the 
variegated  cotton  headkerchief  which  constitute  the 
costume  of  the  average  up-country  Malay;  but 
judged  by  debased,  local  standards,  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory  could  hardly  be  held  to  owe  a  heavier  debt 
of  gratitude  to  his  tailor.  The  two  men  who  worked 
his  boat,  for  example,  wore  nothing  save  a  dirty 
strip  of  bark  cloth  twisted  carelessly  about  theif 
loins,  more,  it  would  appear,  for  the  advantage, 
of  having  about  the  person  something  into  which 
to  stick  a  woodknife,  or  a  tobacco-bamboo,  than  to 
subserve  any  end  connected  with  propriety.  Their 
bodies  were  scaly  with  leprous-looking  skin  disease, 
and  the  shaggy  shocks  of  their  hair  stood  out  around 
their  heads  in  regrettable  halos.  They  were  smeared 
with  the  gray  dust  of  wood  ashes,  for  it  is  the  man- 
ner of  these  hill-folk  to  go  to  bed  in  their  fireplaces, 
whereof  the  smoke,  as  their  own  proverb  has  it,  is 
their  coverlet.  This,  on  their  lips,  is  not  a  com- 
plaint, but  a  boast.  Standards  of  comfort  differ 
widely,  and  the  Sakai,  simple  soul,  is  genuinely  im- 
pressed by  the  extraordinary  convenience  of  thus 
being  able  to  keep  warm  o'  nights. 


6        THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

Suddenly,  as  the  canoe  crept  round  a  bend  in 
the  bank,  something  plunged  headlong  out  of  the 
shadows  and  dived  into  the  forest  on  the  left.  It 
leaped  with  a  speed  so  startling,  and  was  swallowed 
up  so  instantly,  that  it  was  gone  before  Kria  had 
time  even  to  reach  for  his  musket;  but  the  Sakai 
boatmen,  who,  like  the  rest  of  their  people,  had  the 
gift  of  sight  through  the  back  of  their  heads,  at 
once  set  up  a  succession  of  queer  animal  calls  and 
cries  which  spluttered  off  presently  into  the  hiccough- 
ing monosyllables  which  serve  these  folk  as  speech. 
A  moment  later  a  clear,  bell-like  call  thrilled  from 
out  the  forest,  so  close  at  hand  that  the  surprise  of 
it  made  Kria  jump  and  nearly  drop  his  paddle;  and 
then  came  a  ripple  of  words,  like  little  drops  of 
crystal,  which  made  even  the  rude  Sakai  tongue  a 
thing  of  music,  freshness,  and  youth.  Next  the 
shrubs  on  the  bank  were  parted  by  human  hands, 
and  Pi-Noi — Breeze  of  the  Forest — emerging  sud- 
denly, stepped  straightway  into  Kria's  life  and  into 
the  innermost  heart  of  him. 

She  was  a  Sakai  girl  of  about  fifteen  years  of  age, 
naked  save  for  a  girdle  of  dried,  black  water  weed, 
a  string  of  red  berries  round  her  neck,  and  a  scarlet 
blossom  stuck  in  her  hair.  She  stood  there,  poised 
lightly  upon  her  feet,  in  the  agile  pose  which  enables 
the  jungle-folk  instantly  to  convert  absolute  im- 
mobility into  a  wondrous  activity.  Her  figure,  just 
budding  into  womanhood,  was  perfect  in  every 
line,  from  the  slender  neck  to  the  rounded  hips,  the 
cleanly  shaped  limbs  and  the  small,  delicate  feet, 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE        7 

the  whole  displayed  with  a  divine  unconsciousness 
wliich  is  above  mere  modesty. 

Her  skin,  smooth  as  velvet  and  with  much  the 
same  downy  softness  of  surface,  was  an  even  yellow- 
brown,  without  fleck  or  blemish,  and  upon  it  diamond 
points  of  water  glistened  in  the  sunlight.  Her  black 
and  glossy  hair  was  twisted  carelessly  into  a  mag- 
nificent knot  at  the  nape  of  her  neck,  little  rounded 
curls  straying  here  and  there  to  soften  cheek  and 
forehead.  Her  face,  an  oval  of  great  purity,  glowed 
with  youth  and  life.  Her  lijis  had  something  of 
the  pretty  pout  of  childhood.  Her  chin  was  firmly 
modelled;  her  nose  was  straight,  with  nostrils  rather 
wide,  quivering,  and  sensitive;  her  little  ears  nestled 
beneath  the  glory  of  her  hair. 

But  it  was  the  eyes  of  this  child  which  chiefly 
seized  and  held  the  attention.  Marvellously  large 
and  round,  the\'  were  black  as  night,  with  irises  set 
in  whites  that  had  a  faint  blue  tinge,  and  with  well- 
defined,  black  eyebrows  arching  above  them.  Their 
expression  was  one  rarely  seen  in  the  human  face, 
though  it  may  be  noted  now  and  again  in  the  eyes 
of  wild  creatures  which  have  leai'ned  to  know  and 
partially  to  trust  mankind.  It  was  at  once  shy  and 
bold,  inviting  and  defiant;  friendly,  too,  within 
limits;  but,  above  all,  watchful  and  on  the  alert  for 
flight  or  for  defence  at  the  least  hint  of  danger.  Her 
gaze  was  bent  upon  Kria,  and  it  seemed  to  him  Ihc 
most  alluring  thing  that  he  had  ever  seen.  As  he 
looked,  he  caught  his  breath  with  an  audible  gasj) 
of  astonishment  and  delight. 


8        THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

Love  at  first  sight  is  a  disease  very  prevalent  in 
Asia,  for  with  the  Oriental  the  lust  of  the  eye  is 
ever  the  mightiest  of  forces,  and  the  sorry  pretence 
that  the  mind  rules  the  passions  is  not  recognized 
by  liim  as  a  tenet  subscription  to  which  is  demanded 
by  self-respect.  The  Malays  name  it  ^Hhe  madness," 
and  by  this  Kria  now  was  smitten,  suddenly  and 
without  warning,  as  men  sometimes  are  stricken 
down  by  the  stroke  of  a  vertical  sun.  Pi-Noi  might 
be  a  daughter  of  the  despised  jungle-folk,  an  infidel, 
an  eater  of  unclean  things,  a  creature  of  the  forest 
almost  as  wild  as  the  beasts  with  which  she  shared 
a  common  home;  but  to  Kria  she  was  what  the  first 
woman  was  to  the  first  man.  She  was  more.  Stand- 
ing thus  upon  the  river's  brink,  with  her  feet  in 
the  crystal  ripples,  with  the  tangle  of  vegetation 
making  for  her  lithe  figure  a  wondrous  background, 
with  the  sunhght  playing  in  and  out  of  the  swaying, 
green  canopy  above  her  head  and  dappling  her  clear 
skin  with  shifting  splashes  of  brightness  and  shadow, 
she  symbohzed  for  him  the  eternal  triumph  of  her 
sex — the  tyrannous,  unsought  power  of  woman. 

Pi-Noi,  after  looking  curiously  at  the  jMalay, 
spoke  to  her  countrymen  in  their  own  language,  and 
Kria,  who  had  acquired  a  working  knowledge  of 
the  jirimitive  jungle  jargon,  answered  her  himself; 

"We  are  going  up-stream  to  Che-ba'  Per-lau-i. 
The  boat  is  large  and  your  little  body  will  not  sink 
it.     We  will  bear  you  with  us.     Come!" 

She  looked  at  him  (luizzically,  and  her  face  was 
softened  bv  a  little  ripple  of  laughter.     It  was  the 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE        9 

first  time  that  she  had  heard  her  native  tongue 
spoken  with  a  foreign  accent,  and  the  oddity  of  the 
thing  amused  her.  Then  she  stepped  hghtly  into 
the  canoe  and  squatted  in  the  bow. 

The  boat  resumed  its  journey  up-river,  warring 
with  the  current;  was  tugged  and  hauled  over  fallen 
trees  and  round  threatening  ridges  of  rock;  was  towed 
up  difficult  places  by  long  lines  of  rattan;  was 
manoeuvred  inch  by  inch  up  rapids,  where  the 
waters  roared  furiously;  or  glided  in  obedience  to 
the  punters  along  the  smooth,  sun-dappled  reaches; 
and  all  that  dreamy  afternoon  Pi-Noi  sat  in  the 
bow,  her  back  turned  to  Kria,  her  face  averted. 
She  was  almost  motionless,  yet  to  the  Malay,  whose 
eyes  pursued  her,  she  conveyed  an  extraordinary 
impression  of  being  at  once  absorbed  and  keenly 
alert.  Nothing  that  was  happening,  or  that  had 
happened  recently  in  the  jungle  all  about  her,  wiis 
hidden  from  Pi-Noi,  though  she  seemed  barely 
to  move  her  head,  and  once  she  hfted  her  voice  in  a 
thrilling  imitation  of  a  bird's  call  and  was  answered 
at  once  from  both  sides  of  the  stream.  Though  she 
sat  consentingly  in  Kria's  boat,  he  was  subtly  con- 
scious that  she  was,  in  some  strange  fashion,  an 
integral  part  of  the  forest  that  surrounded  them; 
that  she  was  a  stranger  to  the  life  of  mankind,  as 
he  understood  it — the  life  of  folk  of  his  own  race — 
who,  at  best,  are  only  trespassers  upon  Nature's  vast 
domain.  He  held  his  breath  fearfully,  possessed 
by  the  idea  that  at  any  moment  this  girl  might  vanish 
whence  she  had  come,  and  thereafter  be  lost  to  him 


10      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

forever.  He  felt  her  to  be  as  free  as  the  jungle 
breeze,  whose  name  she  bore,  and  as  Httle  to  be  held 
a  prisoner  by  the  hand  of  man.  This  added  at  once 
a  dread  and  a  new  attraction  to  her  physical  beauty. 
Kria  forgot  the  inherited  contempt  of  the  Malay 
for  the  Sakai,  the  disgust  of  the  Muhammadan  for 
the  devourer  of  unclean  things,  the  conviction  of 
his  people  that  union  with  a  jungle-dweller  is  an 
unspeakable  abomination.  He  only  remembered  that 
he  was  a  man,  hot  with  love;  that  she  was  a  woman, 
elusive  and  desirable. 

II 

Kria's  brief  wooing  was  purely  a  commercial 
transaction,  in  which  Pi-Noi  herself  was  the  last 
person  any  one  dreamed  of  consulting.  The  naked 
jungle-folk  who  were  her  papa  and  mannna  developed 
unsuspected  business  aptitude  at  this  juncture  of 
their  affairs,  the  number  of  knife-blades,  cooking- 
pots,  rolls  of  red  twill,  flints  and  steels,  and  the 
like,  which  they  demanded,  maintaining  a  nic(^ 
proportion  to  Kria's  growing  passion  for  the  girl. 
As  this  became  hotter  day  by  day,  there  was  little 
haggling  on  his  part,  and  presently  an  amazing  sum 
(from  first  to  last  it  cannot  have  fallen  far  short 
of  fifteen  shillings  sterling)  was  paid  to  Pi-NoiV 
])arents,  to  their  great  honour,  glory,  and  satisfaction, 
and  (hiring  an  unforgettable  forenoon  the  Sakai  of 
all  ag(\s  and  both  sexes  gorged  themselves  to  re- 
pletion at  Kria's  expense.  Then  Pi-Noi  was  placed 
upon  an  an  I  heap,  and  a  shaggy  pack  of  hiccoughing 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      11 

male  relatives  girt  the  place  about  in  attitudes  of 
defence.  It  was  now  Kria's  task  to  touch  the  girl's 
hand  in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  her  defenders. 
This  is  all  that  survives  among  the  hill-people  of 
the  old-time  custom  of  marriage  by  capture;  and 
when  the  bridegroom  is  one  of  their  own  folk  it 
^till  happens  sometimes  that  he  carries  a  sore  and 
bleeding  head  and  a  badly  bruised  body  to  his 
marriage  bed.  The  bride,  at  such  times,  darts 
hither  and  thither  within  the  ring  of  her  kinsmen, 
with  real  or  simulated  desire  to  evade  her  conqueror, 
till  the  latter  has  the  luck  to  touch  her  hand  or  to 
bring  her  to  the  ground  by  a  well-aimed  blow  from 
his  club. 

Kria,  however,  had  an  unusually  easy  time  of  it, 
for  the  Sakai  hold  all  Malays  in  awe,  and  Pi-Noi  was 
hampered  by  the  unaccustomed  silk  garments  with 
which  her  husband's  generosity  had  clothed  her. 
Very  soon,  therefore,  Kria,  his  eyes  blazing,  gave  a 
great  cry  as  he  won  a  grip  upon  her  wrist,  and  at 
once  Pi-Noi,  in  obedience  to  established  custom, 
submitted  herself  to  his  control.  Hand  in  hand, 
the  man  and  wife  sped  across  the  clearing  in  the 
direction  of  the  river,  with  a  string  of  hooting,  ges- 
ticulating, shock-headed,  naked  savages  trailing  out 
behind  them.  Below  the  high  bank  Kria's  canoe 
was  moored,  and  leaping  into  her,  they  pushed  out 
into  midstream.  Then  the  current  caught  them; 
the  dugout  became  suddenly  a  thing  instinct  with 
life;  a  bend  hid  the  Sakai  camp  from  view;  and, 
amid   the   immense,   hushed   stillness   of   the  forest 


12      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

afternoon,  these  two  set  out  upon  the  oldest  and 
newest  of  all  pilgrimages. 

With  the  strong  current  aiding  them,  they  had 
only  a  journey  of  a  few  hours  to  make,  a  time  short 
enough  for  any  lovers'  transit,  though  Kria  was  busy 
steering  the  boat,  and  Pi-Noi  sat  in  the  bows  helping 
to  direct  its  course  by  an  occasional  timely  punt. 
He  had  won  his  heart's  desire,  and  the  home  to 
which  he  was  bearing  his  love  lay  close  at  hand;  yet 
even  during  this  honeymoon  journeying  down  the 
clear,  rapid-beset  river  and  through  the  heart  of 
that  magnificent  wilderness  of  woodland,  Kria  had 
leisure  in  which  to  experience  the  assaults  of  a  mys- 
terious and  perplexing  jealousy.  He  was  as  utterly 
alone  with  the  girl  as  if  they  two  were  the  first  or 
the  last  of  their  kind  to  wander  across  the  face  of  \hv 
earth;  yet  he  had  an  uneasy  consciousness  thai 
Pi-Noi  had  companions,  invisible  and  inaudible  lo 
him,  in  whose  presence  he  knew  himself  to  be  dc 
trop.  In  spite  of  her  silence  and  immobility,  he 
knew  instinctively  that  always  she  was  holding  in- 
timate commune  with  animate  nature  in  a  language 
which  had  its  beginning  upon  the  further  side  of 
silence.  It  was  not  only  a  tongue  which  he  could 
not  hear.  It  seemed  to  cleave  an  abyss  between 
them;  to  wrench  her  from  his  grasp  ere  ever  he  had 
securelj'  won  her;  to  lift  her  out  of  his  life;  to  leave 
him  yearning  after  her  with  piteous,  imploring  face 
upturned  and  impotent,  outstretched  arms. 

Suddenly  the  thought  of  this  girl's  elusiveness 
shook  him  with  a  panic  that  checked  his  heartbeats. 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      13 

She  was  journeying  with  him  now  of  her  own  free 
will,  but  what  if  her  will  should  veer?  What  if  the 
lures  of  the  jungle  should  prove  too  strong  for  such 
spells  as  his  poor  love  and  longing  could  lend  him 
wit  to  work?  What  if  that  cruel  wilderness  whence 
she  had  come  should  yawn  and  once  more  engulf 
her?  As  Kria  steered  the  boat  with  mechanical 
skill,  and,  watching  the  girl  with  hungry  eyes,  knew 
himself  to  be  by  her  totally  forgotten,  he  experi- 
enced with  new  force  and  reason  the  dread  which 
alloys  the  delight  of  many  a  lover  even  in  the  su- 
preme moment  of  possession — the  haunting  terror 
of  loss.  Kria  went  in  fear,  not  only  of  Time  and 
Death,  those  two  grim  highwaymen  who  lie  in  wait 
for  love;  there  was  also  the  Forest.  Every  last, 
least  twig  of  it,  every  creature  that  moved  unseen 
beneath  its  shade,  was  his  enemy,  and  it  was  through 
long  files  of  such  foemen  that  he  bore  the  bride  they 
threatened  to  ravish  from  him.  And  thus — the 
girl  abstracted  and  aloof,  the  man  a  prey  to  besetting, 
though  as  yet  vaguely  formulated,  fears — Kria  and 
Pi-Noi  wended  their  way  downstream,  through  the 
wonder  of  the  tropical  afternoon,  to  begin  in  their 
new  home  the  difficult  experiment  of  married  life. 

Ill 

Pi-Noi  was  very  much  a  child,  and,  childlike, 
she  found  delight  in  new  toys.  The  palatial  house 
which  now  was  hers;  the  wealth  of  cooking-pots; 
the  beautiful  Malay  silks  which  Kria  had  given  to 
her;  the  abundance  of  good  food,  and  Kria's  extra v- 


14      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

agant  kindness,  were  all  new  and  very  pleasant 
things.  She  was  playing  at  being  a  Malay  house- 
wife with  all  the  elaborate  make-beheve  which  is  a 
special  faculty  of  the  child  mind.  She  would  load 
her  small  body  with  gay  clothes,  clamp  ornaments 
of  gold  about  her  wrists,  stick  long  silver  pins  in 
her  glossy  hair,  and  strut  about,  laughing  raptur- 
ously at  this  new,  fantastic  game.  But  throughout 
she  was  only  mimicking  iVIalayan  ways  for  her  own 
distraction  and  amusement;  she  was  not  seriously 
attempting  to  adapt  herself  to  her  husband's  con- 
ception of  femininity.  She  would  often  cross-ques- 
tion Kria  as  to  the  practices  of  his  womenfolk, 
and  would  immediately  imitate  their  shining  exam- 
ple with  a  humorous  completeness.  This  pleased 
him,  for  he  interpreted  all  this  irresponsible  child's 
play  as  the  pathetic  efforts  of  a  woman  to  fulfil  the 
expectations  of  the  man  she  loves. 

The  illusion  was  short  lived.  Very  soon  Pi-Noi. 
the  novelty  of  her  new  grandeur  wearing  thin,  began 
to  be  irked  by  the  tyranny  of  Malayan  garments. 
All  her  life  she  had  gone  nude,  with  limbs  fetterless 
as  the  wings  of  a  bird.  For  a  space  the  love  of 
personal  adornment,  which  is  implanted  in  the  heart 
of  even  the  most  primitive  of  feminine  creatures, 
<n(l  battle  with  bodily  discomfort;  but  the  hour 
came  when  ease  defeated  vanity.  Kria,  returning 
home  from  a  short  trip  upstream,  found  his  wife, 
who  did  not  expect  him,  clothed  only  in  her  water- 
weed  girdle,  lying  prone  in  the  sun-baked  dust 
beft)re  their  dwelling,   crooning  a   strange  ditty  to 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      15 

herself,  and  kicking  two  rebellious  bare  legs  joyously 
in  the  air. 

He  was  horribly  shocked  and  outraged;  for  though 
a  naked  Sakai  girl  was  one  of  the  commonest  sights 
in  the  valley,  this  girl  was  his  wife,  and  he  had  been 
hugging  to  his  heart  the  belief  that  she  was  rapidly 
vleveloping  into  a  decorous  Malayan  lady.  Also  his 
eye,  which  had  become  accustomed  to  see  her  clad 
with  the  elaborate  modesty  of  his  own  womenkind, 
saw  in  her  pristine  nudity  an  amazing  impropriety. 
Feeling  wrathful  and  disgraced,  he  rushed  at  her 
and  tried  to  seize  her,  but  she  leaped  to  her  feet  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  and  eluded  him  with  forest- 
bred  ease.  He  brought  up  short,  panting  hard, 
after  an  inglorious  chase ;  and  much  petting,  coaxing, 
and  pleading  were  needed  before  he  could  lure  her 
hack  into  the  house  and  persuade  her  to  don  even 
one  short  Malayan  waist  skirt.  He  had  to  fight 
his  every  instinct,  for  he  longed  to  take  a  stick  to 
her,  being  imbued  with  the  Malay  man's  unshakable 
l)elief  in  the  ability  of  the  rod  to  inspire  in  a  wife  a 
proper  sense  of  subordination;  but  he  did  not  dare. 
Malayan  women  accept  such  happenings  with  the 
meekness  which  experience  reserves  for  the  inevi- 
table; but  in  the  forest  Pi-Noi  had  a  protector — a 
;)rotector  who  never  left  her. 

The  compromise  of  the  short  waist  skirt  duly 
effected,  things  again  went  on  smoothly  for  a  space. 
Kria  suspected  that  Pi-Noi  broke  the  inadecjuate 
compact  unblushingly  whenever  he  was  absent : 
but  he  loved  the  girl  more  madly  every  day,  and 


16      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

was  not  looking  for  trouble,  if  it  might  by  any  means 
be  shirked. 

Some  ten  days  later  another  incident  occurred  to 
break  upon  his  peace.  Pi-Noi,  in  common  with  all 
the  people  of  her  race  and  other  nocturnal  animals, 
was  a  restless  bedfellow,  waking  at  frequent  inter- 
vals through  the  night,  and  being  given  at  such  times 
to  prowling  about  the  house  in  search  of  scraps  of 
food  to  eat  and  tobacco  to  smoke.  Kria  detested 
this  peculiarity,  since  it  emphasized  the  difference 
of  race  and  of  degrees  of  civilization  which  yawned 
between  him  and  his  wife,  but  he  ignored  it  until 
one  evening,  when  he  had  waked  to  find  her  gone, 
and  had  wide-eyed  awaited  her  return  for  something 
over  an  hour.     Then  he  went  in  search  of  her. 

He  hunted  through  the  hut  in  vain;  passed  to  the 
door,  and  finding  it  open,  climbed  down  the  stair- 
ladder  into  the  moonlight  night.  A  big  fire  had  been 
lighted  that  evening,  to  the  windward  of  the  house, 
in  order  that  the  smoke  might  drive  away  the  sand- 
flies, and  in  the  warm,  raked-out  wood  ashes  Kria 
found  his  wife.  She  was  sleeping  "jis  the  devils 
sleep,"  with  her  little,  perfectly  formed  body,  draped 
only  by  the  offending  girdle,  stretched  at  ease  upon 
its  breast,  and  with  her  face  nestling  cozily  upon  her 
folded  arms.  AD  about  her  the  soft  gray  ashes 
were  heaped,  and  her  skin  was  seen,  even  in  the 
moonlight,  to  be  plastered  thickly  with  great  smears 
of  the  stuff.  To  Kria,  a  Malay  of  the  Malays,  whose 
only  conception  of  comfort,  propriety,  and  civili- 
zallon   was  that   prevailing    among  his  people,   this 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      17 

discarding  of  his  roof  tree,  this  turning  of  the  back 
upon  decency  and  cleanHness  and  convention,  was 
an  incomprehensible  madness,  but  also  an  act  of 
unspeakable  perversity  and  naughtiness.  White  with 
anger,  he  looked  at  the  sleeping  girl,  and  even 
as  he  looked,  warned  by  the  marvellous  jungle- 
instinct,  she  awoke  with  a  leap  that  bore  her  a 
dozen  feet  away  from  him.  One  glance  she  cast  at 
his  set  face,  then  plunged  headlong  into  covert. 

Wrath  died  down  within  him  on  the  instant,  and 
was  replaced  by  a  great  fear.  Frantically  he  ran 
to  the  spot  where  she  had  vanished,  calling  upon  her 
by  name.  In  vain  search  he  wandered  to  the  edge 
of  the  clearing,  and  so  out  into  the  forest,  pleading 
with  her  to  return,  vowing  that  he  would  not  harm 
a  hair  of  her  head,  cajoling,  entreating,  beseeching, 
and  now  and  again  breaking  forth  into  uncontrol- 
lable rage  and  threat.  All  night  he  sought  for  her. 
The  cold  gray  dawn,  creeping  up  through  banks  of 
mist,  to  look  chillingly  upon  a  dew-drenched  world, 
found  him,  with  blank  despair  in  his  heart,  with 
soaked  clothes  and  sodden  flesh  tattered  by  the 
jungle  thorns,  making  his  way  back  to  his  empty 
house  with  the  plodding  pain  of  a  man  in  a  night- 
mare. A  last  hope  was  kindled  as  he  drew  near — 
the  hope  that  Pi-Noi  might  have  crept  homeward 
while  he  wandered  through  the  night  looking  for 
her — but  it  flickered  up  for  an  instant  only  to  die, 
as  the  fire  had  died  above  the  gray  ashes  which 
still  bore  the  imprint  of  her  little  body. 

Kria,  sitting  lonely  in  his  hut,  looked  forth  upon 


18      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

a  barren  world,  and  saw  how  desolate  is  life  wheii 
love  has  fled. 

IV 

As  soon  as  Kria  had  pulled  himself  together  suf- 
ficiently to  enable  him  to  think  out  a  course  of 
action,  he  set  off  for  the  Sakai  camp,  whence  he 
had  taken  his  wife;  but  her  people  had,  or  professed 
to  have,  no  news  of  her.  She  had  always  been 
liar,  they  averred — more  liar  even  than  the  rest  of 
her  people.  (Liar  means  "wild,"  as  animals  which 
defy  capture  are  wild.) 

"The  portals  of  the  jungle  are  open  to  her,"  said 
her  father  indifferently.  He  was  squatting  on  the 
ground,  holding  between  his  crooked  knees  a  big, 
conical,  basketwork  fish-trap  which  he  was  fashion  • 
ing.  He  spoke  thickly  through  half  a  dozen  lengths 
of  rattan  which  he  held  in  his  mouth,  the  ends  hang- 
ing down  on  either  side  like  a  monstrous  and  dis  ■ 
re[)utable  moustache,  and  he  did  not  so  much  as 
raise  his  eyes  to  look  at  his  son-in-law.  "She  will 
come  to  no  harm,"  he  grunted.  "Perhaps  presently 
she  will  return." 

But  Kria  did  not  want  his  wife  "presently"  or 
"perhaps";  he  wanted  her  now,  at  once,  without  a 
moment's  delay.  He  explained  this  to  the  assembled 
Sakai  with  considerable  vehemence. 

"Thiit  which  is  in  the  jungle  is  in  the  jimgle," 
they  Scud  oracularly.  Folk  who  are  liar,  they  ex- 
plained, are  very  difficult  to  catch,  resent  capture, 
and  if  brought  back  before  their  wanderlust  is  an 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      19 

expended  passion,  are  very  apt  to  run  away  again. 
Then  the  laborious  business  of  tracking  and  catch- 
ing them  has  to  be  undertaken  anew,  to  the  immense 
fatigue  and  annoyance  of  every  one  concerned.  It 
is  better,  they  urged,  to  let  such  people  grow  weary 
of  the  jungle  at  their  leisure;  then,  in  the  fullness  of 
time,  they  will  return  of  their  own  free  will. 

The  limitations  of  their  intellects  and  vocabularies 
made  it  impossible  for  the  Sakai  to  express  them- 
selves quite  as  clearly  as  this,  but  the  above  repre- 
sents the  gist  of  their  dispassionate  opinions.  They 
took  several  torturing  hours  and  innumerable  mono- 
syllables to  explain  them  to  Kria,  who  gnashed  and 
raved  in  his  impatience. 

"Pi-Noi  is  so  excessively  liar,'"  said  that  young 
woman's  mamma,  speaking  with  a  sort  of  dreamy 
indifference  while,  with  noisy  nails,  she  tore  at  her 
scaly  hide.  "She  is  so  incurably  liar  that  it  would 
be  better,  Inche',  to  abandon  her  to  the  jungle  and 
to  take  one  of  her  sisters  to  wife  in  her  stead.  Jag-ok^' 
here,"  she  added,  indicating  with  outthrust  chin 
a  splay-faced  little  girl,  who,  in  awful  fashion,  was 
cleaning  fish  with  her  fingers,  '*  Jag-ok^  is  hardly  to 
be  called  liar  at  all.  Besides,  she  hates  being 
beaten,  and  if  you  use  a  rod  to  her,  she  would  make, 
I  am  convinced,  a  very  obedient  and  amenable 
wife.  We  will  let  you  have  Jag-ok^  very  cheap — say 
half  the  price  you  paid  for  Pi-Noi,  her  sister." 

But  Kria  did  not  want  Jag-ok^',  who  was  ill  favoured 
and  covered  from  tip  to  toe  with  skin  diseases,  at 
any  price  at  all.     He  wanted  her  sister,  who  was  still 


20      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

to  him  the  only  woman  in  the  world.  The  slack 
indifference  of  the  Sakai  maddened  him,  and  in 
the  end  he  threatened  to  trounce  his  father-in-law 
soundly  if  that  worthy  elder  did  not  forthwith  aid 
him  in  tracking  the  recalcitrant  Pi-Noi. 

In  an  instant  A-Gap,  the  Rhinoceros,  as  Pi-Noi's 
papa  was  named,  was  standing  before  Kria,  shaking 
as  a  leaf  is  shaken,  for  the  Sakai's  inherited  fear  of 
the  Malay  is  an  emotion  which  has  for  its  justi- 
fication a  sound  historical  basis.  Immediately  the 
whole  camp  was  in  a  turmoil;  the  danger  call  was 
sounding,  and  those  of  the  Sakai  to  whom  escape 
was  open  were  melting  into  the  forest  as  swiftly 
and  noiselessly  as  flitting  shadows.  A-Gap  and 
two  younger  men,  however,  squealing  dismally,  were 
clutched  by  their  frowsy  elf-locks,  hustled  on  board 
Kria's  canoe,  and  soon  were  paddling  rapidly  down- 
stream in  the  direction  of  his  house.  The  hour  of 
their  arrival  was  too  late  for  anything  further  to 
be  done  that  day,  so  Kria  spent  a  miserable  night, 
and  awoke  next  morning  to  find  that  the  three 
Sakai  had  disappeared.  They  had  cut  a  hole  in 
the  bamboo  floor,  and  had  dropped  noiselessly 
through  it  on  to  the  earth  beneath,  what  time  Kria 
liad  been  tossing  uj)on  the  mat  which  he  had  placed 
athwart  the  doorway.  They  had  arrived  at  two 
conclusions:  firstly,  that  Kria  was  mad,  which  made 
him  a  highly  undesirable  companion;  and,  secondly, 
tiiat  if  he  caught  Pi-Noi  he  would  very  certainly 
kill  her.  They  were  convinced  of  his  insanity  be- 
cause he  was  making  such  an  absurd  fuss  about  the 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      21 

recovery  of  a  particular  girl,  when  all  the  time,  as 
everybody  knew,  there  were  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  others,  just  as  good,  to  be  had  for  the  asking. 
Their  reasonable  fears  for  Pi-Noi's  safety  were  based 
upon  the  argument  that  a  person  who  would  beat 
a  man  would  certainly  kill  a  woman.  On  the  whole, 
they  concluded,  it  would  be  at  once  more  whole- 
some and  more  pleasant  to  go  away  now,  and  to 
avoid  Kria  for  the  future. 

Kria,  unaided,  tried  some  very  amateurish  track- 
ing on  his  own  account,  his  great  love  setting  at 
naught  the  Malay's  instinctive  horror  of  entering 
the  jungle  unaccompanied.  He  succeeded  only  in 
getting  hopelessly  bushed,  and  at  last  won  his  way 
back  to  his  house,  almost  by  a  miracle.  He  was 
worn  out  with  anxiety  and  fatigue,  foot-sore,  heart- 
sore,  weary  soul  and  body,  and  nearly  starved  to 
death.  The  Sakai  seemed  to  have  vanished  from 
the  forest  for  twenty  miles  around;  his  trading  was 
at  a  standstill;  he  was  humiliated  to  the  dust;  and 
his  utter  impotence  was  like  a  load  of  galling  fetters 
clamped  about  his  soul.  Yet  all  the  while  his  love 
of  Pi-Noi  and  his  hungry  longing  for  her  were  only 
intensified  by  her  absence  and  her  heartlessness.  He 
missed  her — was  haunted  by  the  sound  of  her  voice — 
was  tortured  by  elusive  wraiths  of  her  which  emerged 
suddenly  to  mock  him  from  the  forest's pitiless.deptlis. 

V 

The  moon  had  been  near  the  full  on  the  night 
when    the    wanderlust,  as  the  Sakai  called  it,  had 


2!^      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

come  to  Pi-Noi.  A  little  crescent  was  hanging  just 
above  the  forest  in  the  wake  of  the  sunset  before 
Kria  received  any  hint  of  her  continued  existence. 
Returning  one  evening  to  his  house  from  a  visit  to 
his  fish-weir,  he  found  on  the  threshold  a  small  heap 
of  jungle-offerings — wild  duri-an  and  other  fruit,  the 
edible  shoot  of  the  tbul  palm,  and  a  collection  of 
similar  miscellaneous  trash.  At  this  sight  the  blood 
flew  to  Kria's  face,  then  stormed  back  into  a  heart 
that  pumped  and  leaped.  These  things  shouted 
their  meaning  in  his  ears. 

Trembling  with  joyful  agitation,  Kria  passed  to 
the  inner  room  of  the  house,  and  examined  Pi-Noi  \s 
store  of  clothes.  Not  only  a  silk  waistclotli,  but  a 
long  blouse,  such  as  Malayan  women  wear  as  an 
upper  garment,  were  missing.  Evidently  Pi-Noi 
was  bent  upon  doing  the  thing  handsomely  now 
that  she  had  decided  upon  submission,  and  to  that 
end  was  pandering  with  a  generous  completeness 
to  his  absurd  prejudices  on  the  subject  of  wearing 
apparel.  Also  she  must  be  close  at  hand,  for  it  was 
unlikely  that  she  would  stray  far  into  the  jungle 
clad  in  those  delicate  silks. 

Pi-Noi's  surrender  was  an  instant  victory  for  her. 
No  sooner  had  Kria  made  his  discovery  than,  willi 
a  wildly  beating  heart,  he  was  standing  in  the  door- 
way, calling  softly,  in  a  voice  that  shook  and 
failed  him,,  using  a  pet  name  known  only  to  Pi- 
Noi  and  to  himself.  All  his  rage,  all  his  humilia- 
tions, all  his  sufferings  were  forgotten.  He  only 
knew    that    Pi-Noi  had   come   back   to   him,   and 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      23 

that  all  at  once  he  was  thankful  and  tearful  and 
glad. 

"Chep!"  (Little  Bird!)  he  cried.  "Chep!  Are 
3'^ou  there.  Fruit  of  my  Heart.'*  Come  to  me,  Little 
One!     Come,  O  come!" 

From  somewhere  in  the  brushwood  near  at  hand 
came  the  sound  of  musical  laughter — the  laughter 
of  a  woman  who  knows  her  pc'ver,  and  finds  in  its 
tyrannous  exercise  a  triumph  and  delight. 

"Is  there  space  in  the  house  for  me?"  she  inquired 
demurely,  tilting  her  head  and  gazing  at  him  in 
mockery,  while  again  a  ripple  of  light  laughter 
broke  from  her  lips.  "Or  shall  I  go  to  my  other 
house     .     .     .     the  forest  .f^" 

Kria,  his  withers  wrung  by  the  conviction  of  her 
elusiveness  and  his  own  impotence,  tortured,  too, 
by  a  fear  lest  even  now  some  capricious  perversit\' 
might  induce  her  again  to  desert  him,  could  only 
stammer  out  wild  protestations  of  love  and  welcome. 
The  girl  was  thoroughly  aware  that  she  was  com- 
plete mistress  of  the  situation,  and  even  Kria  was 
tempted  to  believe  that  he,  not  she,  was  the  wrong- 
doer. In  moments  of  rage,  during  her  absence, 
he  had  often  promised  himself  that,  if  he  ever  laid 
hands  upon  her  again,  he  would  give  her  the  very 
soundest  whipping  that  the  forest  had  ever  seen 
administered  to  an  erring  wife;  but  now  these  vows 
were  forgotten.  All  he  desired  was  to  have  her  back, 
on  any  terms,  at  any  price,  at  no  matter  what 
sacrifice,  of  pride,  of  honour,  of  self-respect.  Even 
in   that    instant   of   passion    and   emotion   he   saw, 


24      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

though    dimly,    that    this    woman    was   kilHng   his 
soul. 

Reassured  at  last  as  to  the  amiability  of  Kria's 
intentions,  Pi-Noi  drew  near  him  after  the  manner 
of  other  wild  forest  creatures,  her  every  muscle 
braced  for  flight;  and  then  she  was  in  his  arms, 
and  he  had  borne  her  up  the  stair-ladder  with  in- 
finite tenderness,  crooning  and  weeping  over  her 
.  with  broken  words  of  love. 

VI 

Thus  began  the  years  of  Kria's  slavery — only  three 
little  years  of  life,  as  men  count  time,  but  an  eter- 
nity; no  less,  if  judged  by  the  number  and  violence 
of  the  emotions  packed  within  them.  While  they 
lasted,  periods  of  almost  delirious  delight  alternated 
with  seasons  of  acute  mental  suffering  and  moral 
struggle.  Sometimes  for  six  weeks  or  more  at  a 
time  Pi-Noi  would  live  contentedly  under  his  roof, 
and  he  would  strive  to  trick  himself  into  the  belief 
that  the  wanderlust  was  dead  in  her.  Then,  upon 
a  certain  day,  his  watchful  eyes  would  note  a  subtle 
change.  She  would  be  lost  to  him,  sitting  in  the 
doorway  of  the  hut  with  parted  lips,  while  into  her 
eyes  there  crept  a  dreamy,  faraway  mystery.  The 
depths  of  her  absorption  would  be  so  profound  th'Ut 
she  would  take  no  heed  of  words  addressed  to  her; 
and  Kria  would  know,  in  his  miserable  heart,  that 
she  was  listening  to  the  voices  which  begin  upon  the 
further  side  of  silence,  and  was  holding  inaudible 
commune  with  the  forest  world.     He  would  guard  her 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      25 

then  stealthily,  sleeplessly,  so  that  his  business  was 
neglected,  and  his  body  was  parched  with  the  fever 
bred  of  anxiety  and  want  of  rest;  but  sooner  or  later 
nature  would  overcome  him,  and  he  would  awake 
with  a  shock  from  the  sleep  of  exhaustion  to  see 
Pi-Noi's  scattered  garments  heaped  about  the  floor, 
and  to  find  that  the  girl  herself  had  once  more  eluded 
his  vigilance. 

Then  would  pass  weeks  of  misery,  of  fierce  jealousy, 
of  rage,  of  longing,  of  fear,  for  he  was  racked  always 
by  the  dread  lest  this  time  she  should  not  come  back. 
But  through  all  he  loved  her,  hating  and  crying  shame 
upon  himself  because  of  his  love;  and  so  often  as  she 
returned  to  him,  so  often  was  her  sinning  ignored. 
He  dared  not  punish  her  with  word  or  blow.  The 
forest  was  her  ally  and  his  bitter  enemy.  It  afforded 
her  a  refuge  too  accessible,  secure  and  final. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  periods  of  anguish  that 
Kria  received  the  first  visit  that  had  been  paid  to 
him  by  men  of  his  own  breed  since  his  arrival  in 
the  valley.  After  days  of  watchfulness  Pi-Noi  had 
eluded  him  that  morning,  a  little  before  the  dawn, 
and  when  Kria  had  awaked  from  slumberings  which 
had  been  a  mere  ravel  of  nightmares,  it  ha4  been 
to  the  knowledge  that  the  grim  forest  had  swal- 
lowed her,  and  that  yet  another  season  of  misery,  of 
torturing  imaginings,  and  of  suspense  lay  before 
him.  A  couple  of  hours  later  his  unexpected  visitors 
arrived. 

The  party  consisted  of  three  Malays  —Kulop  RIau, 
a  native  of  Perak,  who  in  those  days  was  reputed  to 


26      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

be  the  most  noted  master  of  jungle-lore  in  the 
Peninsula,  and  two  young  men  from  the  Jelai  Valley 
in  Pahang.  They  had  come  to  search  for  gutta  in 
the  forests  of  the  Telom,  and  for  loot  in  the  Sakai 
camps. 

With  the  frankness  which  distinguishes  Malays, 
and  a  lonely  man's  craving  for  sympathy,  Kria 
forthwith  related  to  these  strangers  the  story  of  his 
married  life  and  all  the  ignominy  which  was  his, 
at  the  same  time  asking  their  advice  as  to  the  action 
which  he  might  most  fittingly  take.  Kulop  Riau 
was  cynical. 

"She  is  only  a  Sakai,"  he  said.  "Why  do  you 
not  kill  her  and  thereafter  seek  a  wife  among  the 
maidens  of  the  Jelai  Valley.^  That  were  more  proper 
than  to  suffer  yourself  to  be  thus  villainously  en- 
treated by  this  jungle- wench." 

Kria  hung  his  head.  He  could  not  bring  himself 
to  reveal  the  shameful  secret  of  his  love;  but  Kulop 
Riau,  whose  experiences  were  not  confined  to  the 
forest,  looked  at  him  and  understood. 

"These  jungle  hussies,"  he  declared  with  the 
dogmatic  assertion  proper  to  an  expert,  "these 
jungle  hussies  are  often  deeply  skilled  in  witchcraft, 
and  it  is  plainly  to  be  discerned  that  this  wench  has 
cast  a  glamour  over  you.  Brother,  I  apprehend 
that  H  would  be  wise  to  slay  her,  for  your  soul's 
sake,  as  speedily  as  may  be,  else  surely  you  will  be 
a  thrall  to  her  magic  in  life,  and  in  death  you  will 
most  unquestionably  go  to  stoke  the  fires  of  the 
Terrible  Place.     Therefore,  it  were  wise  and  whole- 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      27 

some  and  not  unpleasant  to  kill  her  with  as  much 
speed,  thoroughness,  and  circumspection  as  may 
be  possible." 

But  Kria,  who  loved  the  girl,  not  only  in  spite  of 
her  heartlessness,  but  because  she  so  tortured  him, 
would  have  naught  of  counsels  such  as  this.  If  Pi- 
Noi  had  abided  with  him  after  the  constant  fashion 
of  other  wives,  it  is  possible  that  his  passion  would 
have  spent  itself,  and  their  union  would  have  be- 
come a  mere  embodiment  of  the  commonplace. 
Despite  her  beauty  and  grace,  he  might  easily  have 
grown  weary  of  this  woman  of  a  lesser  breed  if  he 
had  ever  possessed  her  utterly,  but  the  very  in- 
security of  his  tenure  of  her  lent  to  her  an  added  and 
irresistible  fascination. 

Something  of  this,  vaguely,  and  gropingly,  was 
forced  upon  the  imderstanding  of  old  Kulop  Riau, 
who  was  thereby  completely  convinced  of  the  ac- 
curacy of  his  original  diagnosis.  That  the  witch 
should  be  a  Sakai,  an  eater  of  unclean  things,  fore- 
doomed in  common  with  all  her  race  to  burn  eter- 
nally in  Hell  by  the  wise  decree  of  Allah,  the  Merciful, 
the  Compassionate,  and  that  her  victim  should 
be  a  Malay  and  True  Believer,  shocked  his  every 
racial  and  religious  prejudice.  Though,  on  his  own 
account,  he  had  constant  dealings  with  jungle  demons 
— the  which  is  an  abomination^ — he  suddenly  re- 
called the  fact  that  he  was  a  Muhammadan,  and 
as  such  recognized  that  Kria's  position  was  at  once 
humiliating  and  highly  improper. 

"In  any  event,  it  were  well  to  know  how  she  passes 


28      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

the  days  during  which  the  jungle  claims  her,"  he 
said.  "It  seems  to  me  that  this  hussy  has  kept  you 
too  long  in  ignorance  of  the  naughtiness  of  her  heart, 
the  degradation  and  ignominy  of  her  behaviour,  and 
the  extraordinary  vileness  and  impropriety  of  hei- 
carriage." 

"I  would  very  willingly  learn  why  she  thus  leaves 
me  and  what  she  does  at  such  seasons,"  said  poor 
Kria.  "But  the  forests  are  vast,  and  she  vanishes 
into  their  depths  even  as  a  stone  sinks  through  still 
waters  and  is  lost  to  sight.  She  is  one  of  the  wild 
things  of  the  jungle,  and  if  she  has  a  mind  to  keep 
lier  secret,  who  shall  wrest  it  from  her?" 

"It  is  very  plainly  to  be  seen,  brother,  that  you 
are  village-bred,"  said  Kulop  Riau  with  immense 
contempt.  "The  portals  of  the  jungle  are  not  flung 
wide  for  you.  The  Spectre  Huntsman  and  the 
Forest  Fiends  do  not  count  you  among  the  tale 
of  their  children.  If  this  were  not  so. 
But  the  thing  is  too  simple  to  demand  explanation!" 

"But  you  .  .  ."  cried  Kria  breathlessly.  "You, 
could  you  track  her.^  Could  you  answer  for  me  all 
these  intolerable  questions.'*" 

"That  could  I,  and  with  ease,  were  I  minded 
to  take  so  much  trouble,"  said  Kiilop  scornfully. 
"But  I  have  come  hither  to  transact  business  of 
mine  own.  However,  such  is  the  love  I  bear  you, 
little  brother"  (the  two  had  met  for  the  first  time 
that  day)  "  that  I  might  turn  me  aside  from  mine  own 
affairs  to  do  you  this  service — at  a  price." 

The   concludidg   words   awoke  Kria's  keen  com- 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      ^y 

raercial  instincts,  and  a  very  pretty  piece  of  haggling 
forthwith  ensued.  But  even  here  Pi-Noi  shackled 
him.  He  loved  her,  and  his  necessity  was  old  Ku- 
lop's  opportunity,  as  that  astute  worthy  very  per- 
fectly perceived;  wherefore  the  price,  paid  in  rubber, 
which  Kria  drew  with  many  sighs  from  his  hoarded 
store,  proved  in  the  end  to  be  frankly  extortionate. 
He  longed  to  lay  at  rest,  once  for  all,  the  cruel  ghosts 
of  the  imagination  which  had  haunted  him,  but  now 
that  the  chance  of  discovery  had  come  to  him,  he 
was  oppressed  by  terror  at  the  thought  of  what  it 
might  reveal. 

Time  was  precious  if  Pi-Noi's  trail  was  to  be  struck 
while  it  was  still  fresh,  and  a  short  hour  sufficed  for 
preparations.  Then  the  party,  Kulop  Riau  lead- 
ing, with  his  long  nuizzle-loader  on  his  shoulder, 
Kria  following,  and  the  two  Jelai  youngsters  bring- 
ing up  the  rear,  left  the  clearing  and  entered  the  for- 
est. Old  Kulop  had  made  a  cast  round  the  clearing 
while  the  others  were  busy  packing  the  rice  and 
the  cooking-pots,  and  he  had  hit  off  the  line  which 
Pi-Noi  had  taken  at  the  first  attempt.  A  trail  once 
struck  by  a  man  of  Kulop's  skill  and  knowledge  of 
forest-lore,  few  accidents  less  efficient  than  an  earth- 
quake or  a  cyclone  would  suffice  to  check  or  sta\' 
him. 

VII 

Pi-Noi's  spoor  proved  at  the  first  singularly  clear. 
She  had  so  long  been  convinced  of  her  complete 
immunity  from  pursuit  that  she  had  become  care- 


30      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

less,  and  had  made  use  of  none  of  the  precautions 
for  the  confusion  of  her  trail  such  as  are  supplied 
by  the  baffling  woodcraft  of  her  people.  This  was 
as  well,  and  saved  the  trackers  much  time;  for  the 
very  existence  of  the  Sakai,  it  must  be  remembered, 
has  depended  for  hundreds  of  years  upon  their 
ability  to  evade  Malay  slave-hunters. 

At  a  distance  of  some  eight  miles  from  her  start- 
ing point  (it  took  Kiilop  Riau  and  his  party  nearly 
five  hours  to  reach  it)  she  had  stopped  in  a  little 
open  glade  of  the  forest  to  dance  ecstatically  witli 
her  slender,  bare  feet  upon  the  rich,  cool  grasses  be- 
side a  stream,  which  tumbled  downward,  with  a 
mighty  chattering,  in  the  direction  of  the  Teloni. 
Here  she  had  bathed  luxuriously  in  the  running 
water,  had  stretched  herself  to  enjoy  a  sun-bath 
upon  a  flat  rock  in  midstream,  and  thence  had 
pounced  upon  and  captured  with  her  hands  a  huge, 
fruit-eating  krai  fish.  She  had  carried  the  creature 
ashore,  had  cleaned  it  and  scraped  off  its  scales,  and 
])ulled  some  rattan  from  the  jungle,  and  had  fash- 
ioned therefrom  a  knapsack  into  which  she  had 
stowed  the  fish.  Thereafter  she  had  climbed  a 
hibiscus  to  rob  it  of  its  blossoms  for  her  hair,  had 
(lanced  again  in  sheer  joy  of  being  alive,  and  then 
had  continued  her  wanderings. 

The  tracks,  as  old  Kulop  Riau  ])ointed  them  out 
to  Kria,  one  by  one,  told  the  story  of  this  little  halt- 
ing with  such  distinctness  of  detail  that  Pi-Noi's 
husband  could  picture  to  himself  every  act  and  mo- 
tion  of  his   wayward   wife;   could   almost  visualize 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      31 

her,  alone  and  wild  with  joy,  in  that  hidden  nook 
of  the  jungle;  and  found  himself  understanding  for 
the  first  time  something  of  the  exaltation  and  ex- 
hilaration of  spirit  that  had  been  hers  as  she  entered 
once  more  into  her  birthright  of  forest  freedom. 

At  this  point  Kulop  Riau  found  it  diflBcult  to  pick 
up  the  trail  afresh.  He  took  wide  casts  up  and 
down  stream,  examining  both  banks  closely,  but  for 
nearly  an  hour  he  was  at  fault.  He  quested  like  a 
hound,  his  shoulders  hunched,  his  head  low-stooping 
from  his  thick  neck,  his  eyes  intent,  fixed  for  the 
most  part  on  the  ground,  but  throwing  now  and 
again  quick  glances  to  the  right  or  left.  All  the 
while  he  maintained  with  himself  a  monotonous, 
unintelligible,  mumbled  monologue.  Kria,  follow- 
ing him  closely  and  straining  his  ears  to  listen,  could 
catch  here  and  there  a  familiar  word,  but  the  speech 
as  a  whole  was  an  archaic  jargon  from  which  no  single 
strand  of  connected  thought  was  to  be  unravelled, 
and  the  old  tracker  was  seemingly  deaf  to  all  the 
eager  questions  addressed  to  him. 

The  Jelai  lads,  shuddering  a  little,  whispered  to 
Kria  that  the  Jungle  Demons  had  entered  into  and 
possessed  the  body  of  the  old  tracker,  and  one  of 
them  fell  to  repeating  the  names  of  Allah  and  his 
Prophet  fearfully,  under  his  breath.  It  was  a  nerve- 
sawing  experience  to  find  one's  self  thus  cast  away  in 
the  trackless  forest  with  this  inspired  demoniac 
for  one's  sole  guide  and  leader;  but  Kria  was  not 
greatly  impressed.     He  knew  Pi-Noi. 

At  last,  about  a  mile  upstream,  Kulop  Riau  sud- 


32      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

denly  became  rigid  as  a  pointer,  and  stood  glaring 
at  a  spot  on  the  left  bank  where  a  hanging  leaf  oozed 
sap  from  a  bruised  twig.  He  broke  forth  into  a 
low  rumble  of  unintelligible  gibberish,  and  drew 
himself  with  many  grunts  out  of  the  bed  of  the 
stream.  No  other  sign  of  Pi-Noi's  passage  was 
visible  to  his  companions,  but  Kulop  Riau,  though 
he  still  muttered  ceaselessly,  trudged  forward  now 
with  confidence.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on  he 
drew  Kria's  attention,  by  a  gesture,  to  a  tiny  mucous 
smear  on  the  bark  of  a  tree.  The  fish,  bulging 
through  the  meshes  of  the  knapsack,  had  left  that 
mark.     The  trail  was  Pi-Noi's. 

The  afternoon  was  now  far  advanced,  and  when 
next  he  struck  a  stream,  Kulop  called  a  halt  and 
bade  his  companions  cook  the  evening  meal.  He 
himself  crossed  the  x'ivulet  and  entered  the  forest 
beyond,  returning  later  with  word  that  the  trail  was 
easier  over  yonder,  and  that  he  had  learned  its 
general  trend. 

The  meal  was  eaten  almost  in  silence,  for  Kulop 
Riau,  when  possessed  by  his  Jungle  Spirits,  was  an 
awe-inspiring  companion.  Kria  and  the  Jelai  lads, 
too,  were  fagged  and  weary,  but  since  the  moon  was 
near  the  full,  their  leader  would  not  suffer  them  to 
rest.  Pi-Noi  had  gained  a  long  start  of  them,  which 
they  must  try  to  recover. 

Kria,  worn  out  body  and  soul,  was  racked  by  an 
agony  of  baffled  curiosity  as  he  stumbled  on  and  on, 
and  watched  the  old  tracker  bristling,  with  many 
growls  and  grumblings,  over  each  fresh  secret  that 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      r>n 

the  spoor  revealed  to  him.  It  was  evident  that  he 
was  reading  in  the  invisible  signs  which  he  alone  had 
the  power  to  interpret,  some  story  that  excited  him 
strangely,  but  he  did  not  heed  and  seemed  not  even 
to  hear  the  eager  questions  with  which  Kria  plied 
him. 

About  midnight  he  called  a  halt. 

"There  is  still  plenty  of  light,"  Kria  protested. 

"Here  we  will  camp,"  Kulop  Riau  reiterated  with 
a  snarl. 

"But "  Kria  began,  when  the  other  cut  him 

short. 

"When  you  are  in  childbed,  do  as  the  midwife 
bids  you,"  he  said;  and  ten  minutes  later  the  old 
man  was  fiist  asleep,  though  even  in  his  slumber  he 
still  muttered  restlessly. 

The  dawn  broke  wan  and  cheerless,  the  feeble 
daylight  thrusting  sad  and  irresolute  fingers  through 
the  network  of  boughs  and  leaves  overhead.  A  dank, 
chill,  woebegone  depression  hung  over  the  wilder- 
ness. The  riot  and  the  glory  of  the  night  were 
ended;  the  long  ordeal  of  the  hot  and  breathless  day 
was  about  to  begin.  The  forest  was  settling  itself 
with  scant  content  to  its  uneasy  slumbering. 

After  the  manner  of  all  jungle-people,  Kulop  Riau 
awoke  with  tlie  dawn,  and  an  hour  later  the  morning 
rice  had  been  cooked  and  eaten.  The  old  tracker 
prepared  himself  a  quid  of  betel  nut  with  great  de- 
liberation, and  sat  chewing  it  mechanically,  his 
body  swinging  slowly  to  and  fro,  his  eyes  nearly 
3losed,  his  lips  busy,  though  none  save  vague  sounds 


34      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

came  from  them.  Kria,  watching  him  with  grow- 
ing irritation,  for  a  while  was  fearful  to  disturb  him; 
but  at  last,  unable  longer  to  endure  the  delay  and 
suspense,  he  burst  out  with  an  eager  question. 

"When  do  we  take  up  the  trial  anew?"  he  asked. 

Kiilop  Riau,  coming  up  to  the  surface  slowly  from 
the  depths  of  his  abstraction,  gazed  at  Kria  for  a 
space  through  unseeing  eyes,  while  the  question 
that  had  been  spoken  filtered  through  the  clouds 
obscuring  his  brain.  Then  he  jerked  out  an  answer 
of  five  words : 

"When  you  are  in  childbed!"  and  closed  his 
mouth  with  a  snap,  not  even  troubling  himself  to 
complete  the  proverb. 

Once  more  Kria  knew  himself  to  be  impotent. 
Here  again  he  had  no  course  open  to  him  but  to 
sit  and  wait. 

The  long,  still,  stifling  day  wore  toward  evening, 
minute  by  minute  and  hour  by  hour,  while  the  four 
men  lay  under  the  shelter  of  a  rough  lean-to  of 
thatch,  inactive  but  restless,  and  Kria  thought 
bitterly  of  the  amount  and  value  of  the  rubber 
which  he  in  his  folly  and  trustfulness  had  handed 
over  to  Kulop  Riau  in  advance.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon that  worthy  spoke  to  his  companions  for  the 
first  time  for  many  hours,  bidding  them  prepare 
food,  and  a  little  before  the  sunset,  after  the  meal 
had  been  despatched,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  hiccoughed 
loudly,  stretched  himself  elaborately,  and  made 
"eady  to  resume  his  march.  In  an  instant  Kria 
was  by  his  side,  with  an  expression  of  joyful  relief, 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      35 

but  Ktilop  told  him  curtly  to  bide  where  he 
was. 

"This  time,"  he  said,  "I  go  forward  alone.  One 
may  not  scout  in  this  forest  with  three  pairs  of  feet 
crashing  through  the  underwood  at  one's  heels  like 
a  troop  of  wild  kine.     Stay  here  till  I  return." 

Without  another  word,  he  lounged  off,  with  his 
long  musket  over  his  shoulder,  and  was  soon  lost  to 
view.  He  went,  as  the  Sakai  themselves  go,  flitting 
through  the  trees  as  noiselessly  as  a  bat. 

"Did  I  not  say  truly  that  he  is  possessed  by  the 
Demons  of  the  Forest?"  said  one  of  the  Jelai  youths. 
"  Ya  Allah  !  Fancy  going  into  this  wilderness  alone 
for  choice,  and  with  the  darkness  about  to  fall!" 

Thereafter  followed  for  Kria  a  miserable  night, 
for  while  the  Jelai  lads  slept  beside  him,  he  lay 
awake,  a  prey  to  a  thousand  torturing  thoughts  and 
memories,  and  oppressed  by  a  load  of  vague  fore- 
bodings. 

VHI 

Kria  awoke  in  broad  daylight  to  find  old  Kulop 
Riau,  his  dew-drenched  clothes  soiled  with  the  earth 
of  the  jungle,  bending  over  him  with  a  light  of  wild 
excitement  and  exultation  blazing  in  his  eyes. 

"Come,  brother,"  he  said.  "I  have  found  the 
wench.     Come!" 

Without  another  word,  he  turned  away  into  the 
forest,  Kria  following  him  as  best  he  might,  binding 
about  his  waist  as  he  ran  the  belt  from  which  hung 
his  heavy  woodknife. 


36      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

Kulop  strode  along  at  a  great  pace  for  a  matter  of 
two  or  three  miles,  now  and  again  directing  Kria's 
attention  to  some  trifling  mark  on  earth  or  trunk  or 
shrub  which  told  of  the  passing  of  Pi-Noi. 

"See  here,  brother,"  he  said,  indicating  a  place 
where  the  grass  had  much  the  appearance  of  a  large 
hare's  form.  "There  was  one  awaiting  her.  He 
sat  there  for  a  long  time,  listening  for  her  coming, 
and  there  was  much  joy  in  that  meeting.  Behold 
here,  and  here,  and  here,  how  they  danced  together, 
cis  young  fawns  caper  and  leap — the  hussy,  your  wife, 
and  this  youth  of  her  own  people.  Like  goes  to 
like,  brother,  and  a  wild  woman  seeks  ever  a  wild 
man,  in  no  wise  respecting  the  laws  of  wedlock. 
This  wench  has  betrayed  you.  See,  here  they  cooked 
food,  yams  of  his  gathering  and  the  fish  that  she 
liad  brought,  and  he  fashioned  a  nose-flute  to  make 
beast  noises  with,  and  thereafter  there  was  more 
dancing,  ere  they  bathed  together  in  the  stream, 
the  shameless  ones!  and  moved  forward  again,  head- 
ing always  for  the  Great  Salt  Lick!" 

Kria,  rent  by  devils  of  jealousy  and  rage,  his  face 
drawn  and  ghastly,  his  hands  opening  and  clenching 
convulsively,  said  never  a  word;  but  his  eyes  took 
in  each  detail  of  the  stor\-  recorded  by  the  clear 
imprints  upon  grass  and  earth,  and  the  yielding  mud 
at  the  river's  brink.  Mechanically  he  followed 
Kuloj)  Riau  when  the  latter  once  more  dived  into 
I  lie   underwood. 

"From  thi.s  point,"  the  old  man  was  saying,  "I 
abided  no  longer  by  the  trail.     They  were  making 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      37 

for  the  Great  Salt  Lick,  and  thither  went  I  by  a  cir- 
cuitous path  of  mine  own  contrivance.  This  time 
we  go  by  a  shorter  route.     Come." 

Five  miles  farther  on  the  forest  thinned  out  sud- 
denly and  gave  place  to  an  irregular  space,  roughly 
circular  in  shape,  the  surface  of  which  resembled  a 
ploughed  field.  Though  the  red  soil  was  rich,  barely 
so  much  as  a  tuft  of  grass  grew  upon  it — a  strange 
sight  in  a  land  where  green  things  sprout  into  lusty 
life  almost  as  you  watch  them ;  for  this  was  one  of  the 
natural  saline  deposits  not  infrequently  found  in 
Malayan  jungles.  Hither  flock  all  the  beasts  of 
the  forest,  from  the  elephant,  the  rhinoceros,  and 
the  tiger  to  the  red  dogs,  the  tiny  mouse-deer  no 
larger  than  a  rabbit,  and  even  the  stoats  and  weasels, 
to  lick  the  salt  and  to  knead  and  trample  the  earth 
with  countless  pads  and  claws  and  hoofs. 

Kria  looked  out  upon  the  place,  and  as  he  looked 
his  heart  stood  still,  while  for  a  moment  all  things 
were  blotted  out  in  a  blinding,  swirling  mist  of 
blood-stained  darkness.  He  reeled  against  a  trunk, 
and  stood  there  sobbing  and  shaking  ere  he  could 
muster  force  to  look  again. 

At  the  foot  of  a  big  tree  some  twenty  yards  away 
the  body  of  Pi-Xoi,  its  aspect  strangeh'  delicate  and 
childlike,  lay  coiled  up  in  death.  There  was  a  little 
blue  hole  below  her  left  breast  where  the  cruel  bullet 
had  entered,  and  the  wild  swine  and  the  hungry  red 
dogs  had  already  been  busy. 

Kria,  reeling  like  a  drunken  man,  staggered  across 
the  open  space  toward  the  dead  body  of  his  wife. 


38      THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE 

Kulop  Riau  stood  looking  on  with  the  air  of  a  crafts- 
man surveying  his  masterpieces. 

Dazed  and  broken-hearted,  Kria  stood  for  a 
space  gazing  down  upon  his  wife's  peaceful  face.  It 
seemed  to  him  as  though  she  slept,  as  he  so  often 
had  seen  her  sleeping  in  that  house  to  which  her  fitful 
presence  had  brought  such  an  intoxication  of  de- 
light; and  suddenly  all  anger  was  dead  within  him, 
and  there  surged  up  in  its  place  all  manner  of  tender 
and  endearing  memories  of  this  dead  girl  who  had 
been  to  him  at  once  his  torture  and  his  joy. 

With  a  face  livid  and  working,  he  turned  savagely 
upon  Kulop  Riau. 

"And  the  man,"  he  cried.     "  What  of  the  man.^  " 

"He  lies  yonder,"  said  Kulop  Riau,  with  the 
triumphant  air  of  an  artist  whose  work  can  defy 
criticism,  and  he  pointed  with  his  chin,  Malayan 
fashion,  in  the  direction  of  a  clump  of  bush  near  the 
edge  of  the  salt  lick.  "I  shot  him  as  he  fled. 
See,  they  were  camped  for  the  night  in  the  man- 
nest  which  they  had  built  for  themselves  in  the  tree 
fork  up  there,  animals  and  strangers  to  modesty 
that  they  were!"  He  expectorated  emphatically 
in  token  of  his  unutterable  disgust. 

Kria  strode  to  the  spot,  gazed  for  an  instant,  and 
then  gave  a  great  cry  of  pain  and  rage  and  misery. 

"The  man  is  her  brother,"  he  yelled.  "And  you 
— you  have  killed  her  who  was  guiltless  of  all  sin!" 

"Is  that  so.^"  said  Kulop  calmly.  "Then,  very 
certainly,  it  was  so  decreed  by  Fate,  the  inscrutable, 
and    by    Allah,    the    Merciful,    the    Compassionate! 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  SILENCE      S9 

Also  you  are  well  rid  of  this  jungle  hussy  who,  in 
the  end,  would,  beyond  all  doubt,  have  dragged  your 
soul  to.  .  .  .  Have  done!  Let  be!  Are  you 
mad?     Arrrrgh.     .     .     ." 

But  Kulop  Riau  spoke  no  other  word  in  life. 

When  the  Jelai  lads  tracked  and  found  them,  both 
men  were  dead  and  stiff.  Kulop  still  grasped  the 
woodknife  which  he  had  plunged  again  and  again 
into  Kria's  body;  but  the  latter's  fingers  were  locked 
in  the  old  tracker's  throat  in  a  grip  which,  even  in 
death,  no  force  could  relax.  None  the  less,  though 
they  could  not  separate  them,  they  buried  them  both 
— since  they  were  Muhammadans,  and,  as  such, 
claimed  that  service  at  the  hands  of  their  fellows. 
But  Pi-Noi's  little  body  they  left  to  the  beasts  of 
the  forest  which  in  life  had  been  her  playmates. 


THE  WERE-TIGER 


IN  THE  more  remote  parts  of  the  Malay  Penin- 
sula five  and  twenty  years  ago  we  lived  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  surrounded  by  all  the  appro- 
priate accessories  of  the  dark  centuries.  Magic  and 
evil  spirits,  witchcraft  and  sorcery,  spells  and  love- 
potions,  charms  and  incantations  are,  to  the  mind 
of  the  unsophisticated  native,  as  much  a  matter  of 
everyday  life,  and  almost  as  commonplace,  as  is  the 
miracle  of  the  growing  rice  or  the  mystery  of  the 
reproduction  of  species.  This  basic  fact  must  be 
realized  by  the  European,  if  the  native's  view  of 
human  existence  is  to  be  understood,  for  it  underlies 
all  his  conceptions  of  things  as  they  are.  Tales  of 
the  marvellous  and  of  the  supernatural  excite  inter- 
est and  it  may  be  fear  in  a  Malayan  audience,  but 
they  occasion  no  surprise.  Malays,  were  they  given 
to  such  abstract  discussions,  would  probably  dis- 
pute the  accuracy  of  the  term  "supernatural"  as 
applied  to  much  that  white  men  would  place  un- 
hesitatingly in  that  category.  They  knoiv  that 
strange  things  have  happened  in  the  past  and  are 
daily  occurring  to  them  and  to  their  fellows.  Such 
experiences  are  not  common  to  all,  just  as  one  man 
here  and   there  may  be  struck  by   lightning  while 

40 


THE  WERE-TIGER  41 

his  neighbours  go  unscathed;  but  the  manifestations 
of  electric  force  do  not  appeal  to  them  as  less  or  more 
unnatural  than  other  inexplicable  phenomena  which 
fill  human  life  with  awe. 

The  white  man  and  the  white  man's  justice  are 
placed  by  this  in  a  position  at  once  anomalous  and 
embarrassing.  Unshaken  native  testimony,  we  hold, 
provides  evidence  which  justifies  us  in  sentencing  a 
fellow  creature  to  death  or  to  a  long  term  of  im- 
prisonment; yet  we  hesitate  to  accept  it  or  to  regard 
it  as  equally  conclusive  when  it  points,  no  less  un- 
erringly, to  the  proved  existence  of,  say,  the  Malayan 
loup  garou.  The  Malays  of  Saiyong,  in  the  Perak 
Valley,  for  instance,  know  how  Haji  Abdullah,  the 
native  of  the  Uttle  state  of  Korinchi,  in  Sumatra, 
was  caught  stark  naked  in  a  tiger-trap,  and  there- 
after purchased  his  Uberty  at  the  price  of  the  buffaloes 
he  had  slain  while  he  marauded  in  the  likeness  of 
a  beast.  The  Malays  of  other  parts  of  the  Penin- 
sula know  of  numerous  instances  of  Korinchi  men 
who  have  vomited  feathers,  after  feasting  upon 
fowls,  when  for  the  nonce  they  had  assumed  the 
likeness  of  tigers;  and  of  other  men  of  the  same  race 
who  have  left  their  garments  and  their  trading- 
packs  in  thickets,  whence  presently  a  tiger  has 
emerged.  The  Malay,  however,  does  not  know  that 
his  strange  belief  finds  its  exact  counterpart  in  al- 
most every  quarter  of  the  globe  where  man  has 
found  himself  in  close  association  with  beasts  of 
prey,  but  such  knowledge  would  neither  strengthen 
nor  weaken  his  faith  in  that  which  he  regards  as  a 


42  THE  WERE-TIGER 

proven  fact.  The  white  man,  on  the  other  hand, 
may  see  in  the  universahty  of  this  superstition 
nothing  more  than  an  illustration  of  the  effect  of  an 
abiding  fear  upon  the  human  mind;  but  that  ex- 
planation— if  explanation  it  can,  indeed,  be  called — 
does  not  carry  him  much  farther  along  the  path  of 
discovery.  Meanwhile,  he  has  to  shoulder  aside  as 
worthless  masses  of  native  evidence,  which  in  any 
other  connection  he  would  accept  as  final. 

II 

The  Slim  valley  lies  across  the  mountain  range 
which  divides  Pahang  from  Perak.  It  used  to  be 
peopled  by  Malays  of  various  races — Rawas  and 
Menangkabaus  from  Sumatra,  men  with  high- 
sounding  titles  and  vain  boasts  wherewith  to  carry 
off  their  squalid,  dirty  poverty;  Perak  Malays  from 
the  fair  Kinta  Valley,  prospecting  for  tin  or  trading 
skilfully;  fugitives  from  troublous  Pahang,  long 
settled  in  the  district;  and  the  sweepings  of  Java, 
Sumatra,  and  the  Peninsula. 

Into  the  Slim  Valley,  some  thirty  years  ago,  there 
came  a  Korinchi  trader  named  Haji  Ali,  and  his 
two  sons,  Abdulrahman  and  Abas.  They  came,  as 
is  the  manner  of  their  people,  laden  with  heavy  packs 
of  sdrong — the  native  skirt  or  waistcloth — trudging 
in  single  file  through  the  forest  and  through  the 
villages,  hawking  their  goods  among  the  natives  of 
the  place,  driving  hard  bargains  and  haggling  cun- 
ningly. But  though  they  came  to  trade,  they  stayed 
long  after  they  had  disposed  of  the  contents  of  their 


THE  WERE-TIGER  43 

packs,  for  Haji  Ali  took  a  fancy  to  the  place.  In 
those  days,  of  course,  land  was  to  be  had  almost  for 
the  asking;  wherefore  he  and  his  two  sons  set  to 
work  to  clear  a  compound,  to  build  a  house,  with  a 
grove  of  young  cocoanut  trees  planted  around  it, 
and  to  cultivate  a  rice  swamp.  They  were  quiet, 
well-behaved  people;  they  were  regular  in  their 
attendance  at  the  mosque  for  the  Friday  congre- 
gational prayers;  and  as  they  were  wealthy  and 
prosperous,  they  found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  their 
poorer  neighbours.  Accordingly,  when  Haji  Ali  let 
it  be  known  that  he  desired  to  find  a  wife,  there  was  a 
bustle  in  the  villages  among  the  parents  of  marriage- 
able daughters,  and  though  he  was  a  man  well  past 
middle  life,  a  wide  range  of  choice  was  offered  to 
him. 

The  girl  he  finally  selected  was  named  Patimah, 
the  daughter  of  poor  folk,  peasants  who  lived  on 
their  little  patch  of  land  in  one  of  the  neighbouring 
villages.  She  was  a  comely  maiden,  plump  and 
round  and  light  of  colour,  with  a  merry  face  to  cheer, 
and  willing  fingers  wherewith  to  serve  a  husband. 
The  wedding-portion  was  paid ;  a  feast  proportionate 
to  Haji  Ali's  wealth  was  held  to  celebrate  the  oc- 
casion; and  the  bride,  after  a  decent  interval,  was 
carried  off  to  her  husband's  house  among  the  newly 
planted  fruit  trees  and  palm  groves.  This  was 
not  the  general  custom  of  the  land,  for  among  Malays 
the  husband  usually  shares  his  father-in-law's  homo 
for  a  long  period  after  his  marriage.  But  Haji  Ali 
had    a   fine   new   house,   brave   with    wattled    walls 


44  THE  WERE-TIGER 

stained  cunningly  in  black  and  white,  and  with  a 
luxuriant  covering  of  thatch.  Moreover,  he  had 
taken  the  daughter  of  a  poor  man  to  wife,  and  could 
dictate  his  own  terms,  in  most  matters,  to  her  and 
to  her  parents. 

The  girl  went  willingly  enough,  for  she  was  ex- 
changing poverty  for  wealth,  a  miserable  hovel  for 
a  handsome  home,  and  parents  who  knew  how  to 
get  out  of  her  the  last  ounce  of  work  of  which  she 
was  capable,  for  a  husband  who  seemed  ever  kind, 
generous,  and  indulgent.  She  had  also  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  that  she  had  made  an  exceedingly 
good  marriage,  and  was  an  object  of  envy  to  all  her 
contemporaries.  None  the  less,  three  days  later, 
at  the  hour  when  the  dawn  was  breaking,  she  was 
found  beating  upon  the  door  of  her  father's  house, 
screaming  to  be  taken  in,  trembling  in  every  limb, 
with  her  hair  disordered,  her  garments  drenched 
with  dew  from  the  underwood  through  which  she 
had  rushed,  and  in  a  state  of  panic  bordering  on 
dementia. 

Her  story — the  first  act  in  the  drama  of  the  were- 
tiger  of  Slim — ran  in  this  wise: 

She  had  gone  home  with  Haji  Ali  to  the  house  in 
which  he  lived  with  his  two  sons,  Abdulrahman  and 
Abas,  and  all  had  treated  her  kindly  and  with  cour- 
tesy. The  first  day  she  had  cooked  the  rice  in- 
sufficiently, antl  though  the  young  men  had  grumbled 
Haji  Ali  had  said  no  word  of  blame,  when  she  had 
expected  a  slapping,  such  as  would  have  fallen  to 
the    lot    of    most    wives    in    similar    circumstances. 


THE  WERE-TIGER  45 

She  had,  she  declared,  no  complaint  to  make  of  her 
husband's  treatment  of  her;  but  she  had  fled  his 
roof  forever,  and  her  parents  might  "hang  her  on 
high,  sell  her  in  a  far  land,  scorch  her  with  the  sun's 
rays,  immerse  her  in  water,  burn  her  with  fire,"  ere 
aught  should  induce  her  to  return  to  one  who  hunted 
by  night  in  the  likeness  of  a  were-tiger. 

Every  evening,  after  the  hour  of  evening  prayer, 
Haji  AH  had  left  the  house  on  one  pretext  or  an- 
other, and  had  not  returned  until  an  hour  before  the 
dawn.  Twice  she  had  not  been  aware  of  his  return 
until  she  had  found  him  lying  on  the  sleeping-mat 
by  her  side;  but  on  the  third  night  she  liad  remained 
awake  until  a  noise  without  told  her  that  her  husband 
was  at  hand.  Then  she  had  arisen  and  had  hastened 
to  unbar  the  door,  which  she  had  fastened  on  the 
inside  after  Abdulrahman  and  Abas  had  fallen 
asleep.  The  moon  was  behind  a  cloud  and  the 
light  she  cast  was  dim,  but  Patimah  had  seen  clearly 
enough  the  sight  which  had  driven  her  mad  with 
terror. 

On  the  topmost  rung  of  the  ladder,  wliicli  in  this, 
as  in  all  Malay  houses,  led  from  the  ground  to  the 
threshold  of  the  door,  there  rested  the  head  of  a  full- 
grown  tiger.  Patimah  could  see  the  bold,  black 
stripes  that  marked  his  hide,  the  bristling  wires  of 
whisker,  the  long,  cruel  teeth,  the  fierce  green  light 
in  the  beast's  eyes.  A  round  pad,  with  long  curved 
claws  partially  concealed,  lay  on  the  ladder-rung, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  monster's  head;  and  the 
lower  pf)rfi<)n  of  the  body,  reaching  to  the  ground. 


46  THE  WERE-TIGER 

was  so  foreshortened  that,  to  the  girl,  it  looked  like 
the  body  of  a  man.  Patimah  stood  gazing  at  the 
tiger  from  the  distance  of  only  a  foot  or  two,  for 
she  was  too  paralyzed  with  fear  and  could  neither 
move  nor  cry  out;  and  as  she  looked,  a  gradual  trans- 
formation took  place  in  the  creature  at  her  feet. 
Much  as  one  sees  a  ripple  of  cool  air  pass  over  the 
surface  of  molten  metal,  the  tiger's  features  pal- 
pitated and  were  changed,  until  the  horrified  girl 
saw  the  face  of  her  husband  come  up  through  that  of 
the  beast,  just  as  that  of  a  diver  comes  up  from  the 
depths  through  still  waters.  In  another  moment 
Patimah  understood  that  it  was  Haji  Ali,  her  hus- 
band, who  was  ascending  the  ladder  of  his  house, 
and  the  spell  which  had  held  her  motionless  was 
snapped.  The  first  use  which  she  made  of  her  re- 
covered power  to  move  was  to  leap  past  him  through 
the  doorway,  and  to  plunge  into  the  jungle  which 
edged  the  compound. 

Malays  do  not  love  to  travel  singly  through  the 
forest,  even  when  the  sun  is  high,  and  in  ordinary 
circumstances  no  woman  could  by  any  means  be 
I)revailed  upon  to  do  such  a  thing.  But  Patimah 
was  distraught  with  fear;  and  though  she  was  alone, 
though  the  moonlight  was  dim  and  the  dawn  had 
not  yet  come,  she  i)referred  the  terror-haunted 
depths  of  the  jungle  to  the  home  of  her  were-tiger 
husband.  Thus  she  forced  her  way  through  the 
brusliwood,  tearing  her  clothes,  scarifying  her  flesh 
with  thorns,  catching  her  feet  in  creepers  and  trail- 
ing vines,  drenching  herself  to  the  skin  with  dew. 


THE  WERE-TIGER  47 

and  so  running  and  falling,  and  rising  to  run  and 
fall  again,  she  made  her  way  to  her  father's  house, 
there  to  tell  the  tale  of  her  appalling  experi- 
ence. 

The  story  of  what  had  occurred  was  speedily 
noised  abroad  through  the  villages,  and  was  duly 
reported  to  the  nearest  white  man,  who  heard  it 
with  the  white  man's  usual  scepticism;  while  the 
parents  of  marriageable  daughters,  who  had  been 
mortified  by  Haji  All's  choice  of  a  wife,  hastened 
to  assure  Patimah's  papa  and  mamma  that  they  had 
always  anticipated  something  of  the  sort. 

A  really  remarkable  fact,  however,  was  that  Haji 
Ali  made  no  attempt  to  regain  possession  of  his  wife; 
and  this  acquires  a  special  significance  owing  to  the 
extraordinary  tenacity  which  characterizes  all  Su- 
matra Malays  in  relation  to  their  rights  in  property. 
His  neighbours  drew  a  natural  inference  from  his 
inaction,  and  shunned  him  so  sedulously  that  thence- 
forth he  and  his  sons  were  compelled  to  live  in  almost 
complete  isolation. 

But  the  drama  of  the  were-tiger  of  Slim  was  lo 
liave  a  final  act. 

One  night  a  fine  young  water-buffalo,  the  property 
of  the  Headman,  Penghiilu  Mat  Saleh,  was  killed 
by  a  tiger,  and  its  owner,  saying  no  word  to  any  man, 
constructed  a  cunningly  arranged  spring-gun  over 
the  carcase.  The  trigger-lines  were  so  set  that  if 
the  tiger  returned  to  finish  his  meal — -which,  after 
the  manner  of  his  kind,  he  had  begun  by  tearing  a 


48  THE  WERE-TIGER 

couple  of  hurried  mouthfuls  out  of  the  rump — he 
must  infalHbly  be  wounded  or  killed  by  the  bolts 
and  slugs  with  which  the  gun  was  charged. 

Next  night  a  loud  report,  breaking  in  clanging 
echoes  through  the  stillness  an  hour  or  two  before 
the  dawn  was  due,  apprised  Penghulu  Mat  Saleh 
that  some  animal  had  fouled  the  trigger-lines.  The 
chances  were  that  it  was  the  tiger;  and  if  he  were 
wounded,  he  would  not  be  a  pleasant  creature  to 
meet  on  a  dark  night.  Accordingly,  Penghulu  Mat 
Saleh  lay  still  until  morning. 

In  a  Malayan  village  all  are  astir  very  shortly 
after  daybreak.  As  soon  as  it  is  light  enough  to  see 
to  walk,  the  doors  of  the  houses  open  one  by  one, 
and  the  people  of  the  village  come  forth,  huddled  to 
the  chin  in  their  selimut,  or  coverlets.  Each  man 
makes  his  way  down  to  the  river  to  perform  his 
morning  ablutions,  or  stands  or  squats  on  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  staring  sleepily  at  nothing  in  par- 
ticular, a  motionless  figure  outlined  dimly  against 
the  broad  ruddiness  of  a  ]Malayan  dawn.  Presently 
tiie  women  of  the  village  emerge  from  their  houses, 
in  little  knots  of  three  or  four,  with  the  children 
astride  upon  their  hips  or  pattering  at  their  heels. 
They  carry  clusters  of  gourds  in  their  hands,  for  it 
is  their  duty  to  fill  them  from  the  running  stream 
with  the  water  which  will  be  needed  during  the  day. 
It  is  not  until  the  sun  begins  to  make  its  power 
felt  through  the  mists  of  morning,  when  ablutions 
have  been  carefully  performed  and  the  drowsiness 
of  the  waking-hour  has  departed  from  heavy  eyes. 


THE  WERE-TIGER  49 

that  the  people  of  the  village  turn  their  indolent 
thoughts  toward  the  business  of  the  day. 

Penghulu  Mat  Saleh  arose  that  morning  and  went 
through  his  usual  daily  routine  before  he  set  to  work 
to  collect  a  party  of  Malays  to  aid  him  in  his  search 
for  the  wounded  tiger.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  find- 
ing men  who  were  willing  to  share  the  excitement  of 
the  adventure,  for  most  Malays  are  endowed  with 
sporting  instincts;  and  he  presently  started  on  his 
quest  with  a  ragged  following  of  nearly  a  dozen  at  his 
heels,  armed  with  spears  and  kris  and  having  among 
them  a  couple  of  muskets.  On  arrival  at  the  spot 
where  the  spring-gun  had  been  set,  they  found  that 
beyond  a  doubt  the  tiger  had  returned  to  his  kill. 
The  tracks  left  by  the  great  pads  were  fresh,  and  the 
tearing  up  of  the  earth  on  one  side  of  the  dead 
buffalo,  in  a  spot  where  the  grass  was  thickly  flecked 
with  blood,  showed  that  the  shot  had  taken  effect. 

Penghulu  Mat  Saleh  and  his  people  then  set  down 
steadily  to  follow  the  trail  of  the  wounded  tiger. 
This  was  an  easy  matter,  for  the  beast  had  gone 
heavily  on  three  legs,  the  off  hind-leg  dragging  use- 
lessly. In  places,  too,  a  clot  of  blood  showed  red 
among  the  dew-drenched  leaves  and  grasses.  None 
the  less,  the  PenghCdu  and  his  party  followed  slowly 
and  with  caution.  They  knew  that  a  wounded 
tiger  is  an  ill  beast  to  tackle  at  any  time,  and  that 
even  when  he  lias  only  three  legs  witli  which  to 
spring  ujx)n  his  enemies,  he  can  on  occasion  ai'range 
for  a  large  escort  of  human  beings  to  accompany  him 
into  the  land  of  shadows. 


50  THE  WERE-TIGER 

The  trail  led  through  the  brushwood,  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  dead  buffalo  was  lying,  and  thence  into 
a  belt  of  jungle  which  covered  the  bank  of  the  river 
and  extended  upstream  from  a  point  a  few  hundreds 
of  yards  above  Penghulu  Mat  Saleh's  village  to 
Kuala  (^hin  Lama,  half  a  dozen  miles  away.  The 
tiger  had  tiu-ned  up-river  after  entering  this  patch  of 
forest,  and  half  a  mile  higher  he  had  come  out  upon 
a  slender  foot-path  through  the  woods. 

When  Penghulu  Mat  Saleh  had  followed  the  trail 
thus  far,  he  halted  and  looked  at  his  people. 

"AVhat  say  you?"  he  whispered.  "Do  you  know 
whither  this  track  leads  .f^" 

His  companions  nodded,  but  said  never  a  word. 
They  were  obviously  excited  and  ill  at  ease. 

"What  say  you.^*"  continued  the  Penghulu. 
"Do  we  follow  or  not  follow."*" 

"It  is  as  you  will,  O  Penghulu,"  replied  the  oldest 
nuin  of  the  party,  speaking  for  his  fellows.  "We 
follow  whithersoever  you  go." 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  Penghulu.  "Come,  let  us 
go. 

No  more  was  said  when  this  whispered  colloquy 
was  ended,  and  the  trackers  set  down  to  the  trail 
again  silently  and  with  redoubled  caution. 

The  narrow  path  which  the  tiger  had  followed  led 
on  in  the  direction  of  the  river-bank,  and  ere  long 
tlie  high  wattled  bamboo  fence  of  a  native  compound 
l)ecuine  visible  through  the  trees.  P^'nghillu  Mat 
Saleh  pointed  at  it,  turning  to  his  followers. 

"See  yonder,"  he  said. 


THE  WERE-TIGER  51 

Again  the  little  band  moved  forward,  still  tracing 
the  slot  of  the  tiger  and  the  flecks  of  blood  upon  the 
grass.  These  led  them  to  the  gate  of  the  compound, 
and  through  it,  to  the  \hnan,  or  open  space  before 
the  house.  Here  the  spoor  vanished  at  a  spot  where 
the  rank  spear-blades  of  the  Idlang  grass  had  been 
crushed  to  earth  by  the  weight  of  some  heavy  body. 
To  it  the  trail  of  the  limping  tiger  led.  Away  from 
it  there  were  no  footprints,  save  those  of  the  human 
l)eings  who  come  and  go  through  the  untidy  weeds  and 
grasses  which  cloak  the  soil  in  a  Malayan  compound. 

Penghiilu  Mat  Saleh  and  his  followers  exchanged 
troubled  glances. 

"Come,  let  us  ascend  into  the  house,"  said  the 
former;  and  forthwith  led  the  way  up  the  stair- 
ladder  of  the  dwelling  where  Haji  x\li  lived  with  his 
two  sons,  and  whence  a  month  or  two  before  Patimah 
had  fled  during  the  night  time  with  a  deadly  fear  in 
her  eyes  and  an  incredible  story  faltering  upon  her 
lips. 

The  Penghulu  and  his  people  found  Abas,  one  of 
the  Haji's  sons,  sitting  cross-legged  in  the  outer 
apartment,  preparing  a  quid  of  betel  nut  with 
elaborate  care.  The  visitors  squatted  on  the  mats 
and  exchanged  with  him  the  customary  salutations. 
Then  Penghulu  Mat  Saleh  said: 

"I  have  come  hither  that  I  may  see  your  father. 
Is  he  within  the  house?" 

"He  is,"  replied  Abas  laconically. 

"Then,  make  known  to  him  that  I  would  have 
speech  with  him." 


52  THE  WERE-TIGER 

"My  father  is  sick,"  said  Abas  in  a  surly  tone,  and 
again  his  visitors  exchanged  glances. 

"What  is  that  patch  of  blood  in  the  Idlang  grass 
before  the  house?"  asked  the  Penghulu  conversa- 
tionally, after  a  slight  pause. 

"We  killed  a  goat  yesternight,"  Abas  answered. 

"Have  you  the  skin,  O  Abas.^"  enquired  the  Head- 
man. "I  am  renewing  the  faces  of  my  drums  and 
would  fain  purchase  it." 

"The  skin  was  mangy  and  therefore  we  cast  it 
into  the  river,"  said  Abas. 

The  conversation  languished  while  the  Penghulu's 
followers  pushed  the  clumsy  wooden  betel-box  along 
the  mat  covered  floor  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
silentlj'  prepared  their  quids. 

"What  ails  your  father?"  asked  the  Penghulu 
presently,  returning  to  the  charge. 

"He  is  sick,"  a  rough  voice  said  suddenly,  speak- 
ing from  the  curtained  doorway  which  led  into  the 
inner  apartment. 

It  was  the  elder  of  the  two  sons,  Abdulrahman, 
who  spoke.  He  held  a  sword  in  his  hand,  a  kris 
was  stuck  in  his  girdle,  and  his  face  wore  an  ugly 
look.  His  words  came  harshly  and  gratingly  with 
the  foreign  accent  of  the  Korinchi  people.  He  con- 
tinued  to  speak,   still  standing  near  the  doorwa}'. 

"My  father  is  sick,  O  Penghulu,"  he  said.  "More- 
over, the  noise  of  your  words  disturbs  him.  He  de- 
sires to  slumber  and  be  still.  Descend  out  of  the 
house.  He  cannot  see  you.  Attend  to  these  my 
words." 


THE  WERE-TIGER  53 

Abdulrahman's  manner  and  the  words  he  spoke 
were  at  once  so  rough  and  so  defiant  that  the  Head- 
man saw  that  he  would  have  to  choose  between  a 
scuffle,  which  would  certainly  mean  bloodshed,  and 
an  ignominious  retreat.  He  was  a  mild  old  man, 
and  he  drew  a  monthly  stipend  from  the  Govern- 
ment of  Perak.  He  did  not  wish  to  place  this  in 
jeopardy,  and  he  knew  that  the  white  men  enter- 
tained prejudices  against  bloodshed  and  homicide, 
even  if  the  person  slain  was  a  wizard  or  the  son  of  a 
wizard.     He  therefore  decided  in  favour  of  retreat. 

As  thej'  were  climbing  down  the  stair-ladder.  Mat 
Tahir,  one  of  the  Penghiilu's  men,  plucked  him  by  the 
sleeve  and  pointed  to  a  spot  beneath  the  house. 
Just  below  the  place  in  the  inner  apartment  where 
Haji  Ali  might  be  supposed  to  be  lying  stretched 
upon  the  mat  of  sickness,  the  ground  was  stained  a 
dull  red  colour  for  a  space  of  several  inches  in  circum- 
ference. The  floors  of  Malayan  houses  are  made  of 
laths  of  bamboo  laid  parallel  one  to  another  at 
regular  intervals  and  lashed  together  with  rattan. 
The  interstices  thus  formed  are  convenient,  as  the 
slovenly  Malays  are  thereby  enabled  to  use  the 
whole  of  the  ground  beneath  the  house  as  a  slop-pail, 
Avaste-basket,  and  rubbish-heap.  The  red  stain, 
situated  where  it  was,  had  the  appearance  of  blood — 
blood,  moreover,  from  some  one  within  the  house 
whose  wound  had  been  recently  washed  and  dressed. 
It  might  equally,  of  course,  have  been  the  rinsings 
of  a  spittoon  reddened  by  the  expectorated  juice 
of  the  betel  nut,  but  its  stains  are  rarelv  seen  in  such 


54  THE  WERE-TIGER 

large  patches.  Whatever  the  origin  of  the  stain, 
the  Penghulu  and  his  people  were  afforded  no  oppor- 
tunity of  examining  it  more  closely,  for  Abdulrahman 
and  Abas,  truculent  to  the  last,  followed  them  out 
of  the  compound  and  barred  the  gate  against  them. 

Then  the  Penghulu,  taking  a  couple  of  his  people 
with  him,  set  off  on  foot  for  Tanjong  Malim  in  the 
neighbouring  district  of  Bernam,  where  lived  the 
white  man  under  whose  administrative  charge  the 
Slim  valley  had  been  placed.  He  went  with  many 
misgivings,  for  he  had  had  some  experience  of  the 
easy  scepticism  of  white  folk;  and  when  he  returned, 
more  or  less  dissatisfied  some  days  later,  he  learned 
that  Haji  Ali  and  his  sons  had  disappeared.  They 
liad  fled  down  river  on  a  dark  night,  without  a  soul 
being  made  aware  of  their  intended  departure. 
They  had  not  stayed  to  reap  their  crop,  which  even 
then  was  ripening  in  the  fields;  to  dispose  of  their 
house  and  compound,  upon  which  they  had  ex- 
pended, not  only  labour,  but  "dollars  of  the  whit- 
est," as  the  Malay  phrase  has  it;  not  even  to  collect 
their  debts,  which  chanced  to  be  rather  numerous. 
This  was  the  fact  which  struck  tlie  white  district 
officer  as  by  far  the  most  improbable  incident  of 
any  connected  with  the  strange  story  of  the  were- 
tiger  of  Slim,  and  for  the  moment  it  seemed  to  him 
to  admit  of  only  one  explanation.  Haji  Ali  and  his 
sons  had  been  tlie  victims  of  foul  play.  They  had 
been  quietly  done  to  death  by  the  simi)le  villagers  of 
SHm,  and  a  cock-and-bull  story  liad  been  tnimpecl 
up  to  account  for  their  disappeariince. 


THE  WERE-TIGER  55 

The  white  man  would  probably  still  be  holding 
fast  to  this  theory,  were  it  not  that  Haji  Ali  and  his 
sons  happened  to  turn  up  in  quite  another  part  of 
the  Peninsula  a  few  months  later.  They  had  noth- 
ing out  of  the  way  about  them  to  mark  them  from 
their  fellows,  except  that  Haji  Ali  limped  badly  with 
his  right  leg. 


THE  EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJl  HAIVHD 

THESE  things  were  told  to  me  by  Raja  Haji 
Hamid  as  he  and  I  lay  smoking  on  our 
sleeping-mats  during  the  cool  still  hours 
before  the  dawn.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Roj^al 
Family  of  Selangor,  and  he  still  enjoyed  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Peninsula  the  immense 
reputation  for  valour,  invulnerabilitj^  successful 
homicides,  and  other  manly  qualities  and  achieve- 
ments which  had  made  him  famous  ere  ever  the 
white  men  came.  He  had  accompanied  me  to  the 
east  coast  as  chief  of  my  followers — an  excellent 
band  of  ruffians  who  (to  use  the  phrase  at  that 
time  current  among  them)  were  helping  me  to  serve 
as  "the  bait  at  the  tip  of  the  fish-hook"  at  the  court 
of  the  Sultan  of  an  independent  Malay  state.  He 
had  been  induced  to  accept  this  post  partly  out  of 
friendship  for  me,  but  mainly  because  he  was  thus 
enabled  to  turn  his  back  for  a  space  upon  the 
deplorably  monotonous  and  insipid  conditions  to 
which  British  rule  had  reduced  his  own  country, 
and  because,  in  the  lawless  land  wherein  I  was  then 
acting  as  political  agent,  he  saw  a  prospect  of  re- 
newing some  of  the  stirring  experiences  of  his  youth. 
Raja  Haji  and  I  had  passed  the  evening  in  the 
Sultan's  bdlai,  or  hall  of  state,  watching  the  Chinese 

56 


EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID    57 

bankers  raking  in  their  gains,  while  the  Malays  of 
all  classes  gambled  and  cursed  their  luck  with  the 
noisy  slapping  of  thighs  and  many  references  to 
Allah  and  to  his  Prophet — according  to  whose  teach- 
ing gaming  is  an  unclean  thing.  The  sight  of  the 
play  and  of  the  fierce  passions  which  it  aroused  had 
awakened  many  memories  in  Raja  Haji,  filling  him 
with  desires  that  made  him  restless;  and  though  he 
had  refrained  from  joining  in  the  unholy  sport,  it 
was  evident  that  the  turban  around  his  head — which 
his  increasing  years  and  his  manifold  iniquities  had 
driven  him  to  Mecca  to  seek — was  that  night  irk- 
some to  him,  since  it  forbade  public  indulgence  in 
such  forbidden  pleasures. 

Now  as  we  lay  talking,  ere  sleep  came  to  us,  he 
fell  to  talking  of  the  old  days  in  Selangor  before  the 
coming  of  the  white  men. 

"  Ya,  Allah,  Tuan,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  loved  those 
ancient  times  exceedingly,  when  all  men  were  shy  of 
Si-Hamid,  and  none  dared  face  his  kris,  the  'Chinese 
Axe.'  I  never  felt  the  grip  of  poverty  in  those  days, 
for  my  supplies  were  ever  at  the  tip  of  my  dagger, 
and  very  few  were  found  reckless  enough  to  with- 
hold aught  that  I  desired  or  coveted. 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you,  Tuan,  the  tale  of  how  the 
gamblers  of  Klang  yielded  up  the  money  of  their 
banks  to  me  without  resistance  or  the  spinning  of 
a  single  dice-box.^  No.**  Ah,  that  was  a  pleasant 
tale  and  a  deed  which  was  famous  throughout 
SSlangor,  and  gave  me  a  very  great  name. 

"It  was  in  this  wise.     I  was  in  sorry  case,  for  the 


58    EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID 

boats  had  ceased  to  ply  on  the  river  through  fear  of 
me,  and  my  followers  were  so  few  that  I  could  not 
rush  a  town  or  even  loot  a  Chinese  kong-si  house. 
As  for  the  village  people,  they  were  as  poor  as  I, 
and  save  for  their  womenfolk  (whom,  when  I  desired 
them,  they  had  the  good  sense  to  surrender  to  me 
with  docility)  I  never  harassed  them. 

"Now,  upon  a  certain  day,  my  wives  and  my 
people  came  to  me  asking  for  rice,  or  for  money  with 
which  to  purchase  it;  but  I  had  naught  to  give  them, 
only  one  little  dollar  remaining  to  me.  It  is  an 
accursed  thing  when  the  little  ones  are  in  want  of 
food,  and  my  liver  grew  hot  within  me  at  the  thought. 
None  of  the  womenfolk  dared  say  a  word  when  they 
saw  that  mine  eyes  waxed  red;  but  the  little  children 
wept  aloud,  and  I  heard  them  and  was  sad.  More- 
over, I,  too,  was  hungry,  for  my  belly  was  empty. 
Wherefore,  looking  upon  my  solitary  dollar,  I  called 
to  me  one  of  my  men,  and  bade  him  go  to  the  Chinese 
store  and  buy  for  me  a  bottle  of  the  white  men's 
perfume. 

"Now  when  my  wife — the  mother  of  my  son — 
heard  this  order,  she  cried  out  in  anger:  'Are  you 
mad,  Father  of  Che'  Bujang,  that  you  throw  away 
your  last  dollar  on  perfumes  for  your  lights  of  love, 
while  Che'  Bujang  and  his  brethren  cry  for  rice.''' 

"But  I  slapped  her  on  the  mouth  and  said,  'Be 
still!'  for  it  is  not  well  for  a  man  to  suffer  a  woman 
to  (juestion  the  doings  of  men. 

"That  evening,  when  the  night  had  fallen,  I  put 
on  my  fighting-jacket,  upon  which  were  inscribed 


EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID   59 

many  texts  from  the  Holy  Book,  my  short  drawers, 
such  as  the  Bugis  folk  weave;  and  I  bound  my  A:m, 
the  'Chinese  Axe'  about  my  waist,  and  took  in  my 
hand  my  so  famous  sword,  'the  Rising  Sun.'  Three 
or  four  of  my  young  men  followed  at  my  heels,  and 
I  did  not  forget  to  take  with  me  the  bottle  of  the 
white  man's  perfume. 

"I  went  straight  to  the  great  Klang  gaming-house, 
which  at  that  hour  was  filled  with  gamblers;  and 
when  I  reached  the  door,  I  halted  for  the  space  of  an 
eye  flick,  and  spilled  the  scent  over  my  right  hand 
and  arm  as  far  as  the  elbow.  •  Then  I  rushed  in 
among  the  gamblers,  suddenly  and  without  warn- 
ing, stepping  like  a  fencer  in  the  war  dance,  and 
crying  'Amok!  Amok!'  till  the  coins  danced  upon 
the  gaming-tables.  All  the  gamblers  stayed  their 
liands  from  the  staking,  and  some  seized  the  hilts 
of  their  daggers.  Then  I  cried  aloud  three  times, 
'I  am  Si-Hamid,  the  Tiger  Unbound!' — for  by 
that  name  did  men  then  call  me.  'Get  you  to  your 
dwellings,  and  that  speedily,  and  leave  your  money 
where  it  is  or  I  will  slay  you ! ' 

"Many  were  terrified,  a  few  laughed,  some  hesi- 
tated, some  even  scowled  at  me  in  naughty  fashion, 
clutching  their  coins;  but  none  did  as  I  bade  them. 

"'Pigs  and  dogs,'  I  cried.  'Are  your  ears  deaf 
that  you  obey  me  not,  or  are  you  sated  with  living 
and  desire  that  your  shrouds  should  be  made  ready? 
Do  instantly  my  bidding,  or  I  will  kill  you  all,  as  a 
kite  swoops  upon  little  chickens.  What  powers  do 
you  possess  and  what  are  your  stratagems  that  you 


GO    EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID 

fancy  you  can  prevail  against  me?  For  it  is  I^  Si- 
Hamid — I,  who  am  invulnerable — I  whom  the  very 
fire  burns,  but  cannot  devour!' 

"With  that,  I  thrust  my  right  hand  into  the  flame 
of  a  Chinese  gaming-lamp,  and  being  saturated  witli 
the  white  man's  perfume,  it  blazed  up  bravely,  even 
to  my  elbow,  doing  me  no  hurt,  while  I  waved  it 
flaming  above  my  head. 

"Verily  the  white  men  are  verj'^  clever,  who  so 
cunningly  devise  the  medicine  of  these  perfumes. 

"Now,  when  all  the  people  in  the  gambling-house 
saw  that  my  hand  and  arm  were  burned  with  fire, 
but  were  not  consumed,  a  great  fear  fell  upon  them, 
and  they  fled  shrieking,  no  man  staying  to  gather 
up  his  silver.  This  presently  I  counted  and  put 
into  sacks,  and  my  youths  bore  it  to  my  house,  and 
my  fame  waxed  very  great  in  Klang.  Men  said 
that  henceforth  Si-Hamid  should  be  named,  not 
the  Tiger  Unbound,  but  the  Fiery  Rhinoceros.* 
It  was  long  ere  the  nature  of  my  stratagem  became 
known;  and  even  then  no  man  of  all  the  many  who 
were  within  the  gambling-house  at  Klang  that  night 
had  the  hardihood  or  the  imprudence  to  ask  me  for 


*Blldak  dpi,  the  Fiery  Rhinoceros,  a  monster  of  ancient  Malayan  myth.  It 
is  suppKJsed  to  have  quitted  the  earth  in  the  company  of  the  dragon  and  the  Hon 
at  the  instance  of  the  magician  Sang  Kelembai.  The  latter,  whose  sp>oken  word 
turned  to  stone  all  animate  and  inanimate  things  that  he  addressed,  fled  the  earth 
through  fear  of  mankind,  of  whose  size  and  strength  he  had  obtained  a  mistaken 
impression.  This  arose  from  the  sight  of  a  man's  sarong,  hanging  from  the  top  of 
a  tall  bamboo,  upon  which  it  had  been  placed  when  the  yielding  stem  was  pulled 
down  to  within  a  man's  reach,  and  by  the  discovery  of  a  little,  glassy-headed,  tooth- 
less man  asleep  in  a  hammock,  whom  Sang  Kelembai  mistook  for  a  newly  born 
infant.  Before  his  departure,  he  inadvertently  taught  mankind  how  to  make  and 
use  a  casting-net. 


EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID    Gl 

the  money  which  I  had  borrowed  from  him  and 
from  his  fellows. 

"  Ya,  Allah,  Tuan,  but  those  days  were  exceedingly 
good  days.  I  cannot  think  upon  them  for  it  makes 
me  sad.  It  is  true  what  is  said  in  the  quatrain  of 
the  men  of  Kedah — 

"Piilau  Pinang  hath  a  new  town 

And  Captain  Light  is  its  king. 

Think  not  of  the  days  that  are  gone 

Or  you  will  bow  low  your  head  and  your  tears  will  flow. 

"Ya,  Allah!  Ya  Tulian-ku!  Verily  I  cannot 
endure  these  memories." 

He  lay  tossing  about  upon  his  mat,  muttering 
and  exclaiming;  and  for  a  space  I  let  him  be.  The 
thought  of  the  old,  free,  lawless  days,  when  it  sud- 
denly recurs  to  a  Malayan  raja  of  the  old  school, 
whose  claws  have  been  cut  by  the  British  Govern- 
ment, is  to  him  like  a  raging  tooth.  It  goads  him 
to  a  maddened  restlessness,  and  obliterates,  for 
the  time  being,  all  other  sensations.  Words,  in 
such  circumstances,  are  useless;  and  in  this  particular 
instance  I  was  hardly  in  a  position  to  offer  sympathy 
or  consolation,  seeing  that  Raja  Haji  and  I  were 
at  that  time  engaged  in  an  attempt  to  do  for  an- 
other Malayan  state,  and  for  the  rdja.'i  who  had 
battened  upon  it,  all  that  my  friend  regretted  so 
bitterly  that  the  white  men  had  done  for  Selangor 
and  for  him. 

Gradually  he  became  calmer,  and  presently  began 


62    EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID 

to  chuckle  comfortably  to  himself.  Soon  he  spoke 
again. 

"I  remember  once,  when  I  was  for  the  moment 
rich  with  the  spoils  of  war,  I  gambled  all  the  evening 
in  that  same  gaming-house  at  Klang,  and  lost  four 
thousand  dollars.  It  mattered  not  at  all  on  which 
quarter  of  the  mat  I  staked,  nor  whether  I  went  ko-o, 
li-am,  or  tang*  I  pursued  the  red  half  of  the  die,  as 
one  chases  a  dog,  but  never  once  did  I  catch  it.  At 
length,  when  my  four  thousand  dollars  were  finished, 
I  arose  and  departed,  and  my  liver  was  hot  in  my 
chest.  As  I  came  out  of  the  gaming-house,  a  China- 
man whom  I  knew,  and  who  loved  me,  followed 
after  me  and  whispered  in  my  ear:  "Hai-yah,  Ungkn  ! 
You  have  lost  much  to-night.  It  is  not  fitting. 
That  wicked  one  was  cheating  you;  for  he  hath  a 
trick  whereby  he  can  make  the  red  part  of  the  die 
turn  to  whichever  quarter  of  the  mat  he  chooses.' 

'"Is  this  true.'*'  I  asked.  And  he  made  answer, 
*It  is  indeed  true.' 

"Then  I  loosened  the  'Chinese  Axe'  in  its  scab- 
bard, and  turned  back  into  the  gaming-house.  First 
I  seized  the  Chinaman  by  his   pigtail,    though    he 


♦Three  of  the  methcKls  of  staking  employed  in  the  Chinese  game  which  the 
Malays  call  te-po.  The  mat  is  divided  into  four  sections,  and  a  die,  one  half  of 
which  is  white  and  the  other  half  red,  is  hidden  in  a  solid  tirass  box,  which  is  then 
set  spinning  in  the  centre  of  the  mat.  The  gamblers  bet  as  to  the  ciuarter  of  the 
mat  toward  which  the  red  half  of  the  die  will  be  found  to  be  facing  when  the  top 
of  the  box  is  lifted.  Ko-o  is  staking  on  a  single  section,  and  if  successful  three 
times  the  amount  of  the  stake  is  paid.  Li-am  is  staking  on  two  adjoining  sec- 
tions of  the  mat,  and  if  the  red  die  faces  toward  either  of  them,  the  player  receives 
double  the  amount  of  his  stake.  Tang  is  staking  on  two  opposite  sectiohs  of  the 
mat,  and  again  double  the  amount  of  the  stake  is  paid  if  the  red  half  of  the  die 
faces  toward  either  of  them. 


EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID    63 

yelled  and  struggled,  loudly  proclaiming  his  inno- 
cence; and  my  followers  gathered  up  all  the  money 
in  his  bank — nearly  seven  thousand  dollars,  so  that 
it  took  six  men  to  carry  it.  Thus  I  departed  to  my 
house,  with  the  Chinaman  and  the  money,  none 
daring  to  bar  my  passage. 

"When  we  had  entered  the  house,  I  bade  the 
Chinaman  be  seated,,  and  I  told  him  that  I  would 
kill  him,  even  then,  if  he  did  not  show  me  the  trick 
whereby  he  had  cheated  me.  This  he  presently 
did;  and  for  a  long  time  I  sat  watching  him  and 
l^ractising,  for  I  had  a  mind  to  learn  the  manner  of 
his  art,  thinking  that  later  I  might  profit  by  it. 
Then,  just  as  the  dawn  was  breaking,  I  led  the 
Chinaman  down  to  the  river  by  the  hand,  for  I  was 
loath  to  make  a  mess  within  my  house;  and  when  I 
had  cut  his  throat,  and  had  sent  his  body  floating 
downstream,  I  washed  myself,  performed  my  re- 
ligious ablutions,  prayed  the  morning  prayer,  and 
so  betook  myself  to  my  sleeping-mat,  for  my  eyes 
were  heavy  from  long  waking." 

'^ Kasih-an  China!  I  am  sorry  for  the  China- 
man," I  said. 

"Why  are  you  sorry  for  him?"  asked  Raja  Haji. 
"He  had  cheated  me,  wherefore  it  was  not  fitting 
tliat  he  should  live.  Moreover,  he  was  a  China- 
nian  and  an  infidel,  and  the  lives  of  such  folk  were 
not  reckoned  by  us  as  being  of  any  worth.  In 
Kinta,  before  Tuan  Birch  came  to  Perak,  they  had 
a  game  called  main  china — the  C^hinaman  game — 
each  man  betting  upon  the  number  of  coins  which  a 


G4    EXPERIENCES  OF  RAJA  HAJI  HAMID 

passing  Chinaman  carried  in  his  pouch,  and  upon 
whether  that  number  were  odd  or  even.  There- 
after, when  the  bets  had  been  made,  they  would 
kill  the  Chinaman  and  count  the  coins." 

"They  might  have  done  that  without  killing  the 
Chinaman,"  I  said. 

"That  is  true,"  rejoined  Raja  Haji.  "But  it  was 
a  more  certain  way,  and  moreover  it  increased  their 
pleasure.  But,  Tuan,  the  night  is  very  far  advanced 
and  we  are  weary.     Let  us  sleep." 

Verily  life  in  an  independent  Malay  state  thirty 
years  ago,  like  adversity,  made  one  acquainted  with 
some  strange  bedfellows. 


DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

ONE  morning,  not  so  very  many  years  ago, 
old  Mat  Drus,  bare  to  the  waist,  sat  cross- 
legged  in  the  doorway  of  his  house,  in  the 
little  sleepy  village  of  Kedondong  on  the  banks  of 
the  Pahang  River.  A  single  wide  blade  of  Idlang 
grass  was  bound  filet-wise  about  his  forehead  to 
save  appearances,  for  all  men  know  that  it  is  un- 
mannerly to  wear  no  headdress,  and  Mat  Drus  had 
mislaid  his  kerchief.  His  grizzled  hair  stood  up 
stiffly  above  the  bright  green  of  the  grass-blade; 
his  cheeks  were  furrowed  with  wrinkles;  and  his 
eyes  were  old  and  dull  and  patient — the  eyes  of 
the  driven  peasant,  the  cattle  of  mankind.  His 
lips,  red  with  the  stain  of  areca  nut,  bulged  over  a 
damp  quid  of  Java  tobacco,  shredded  fine  and  rolled 
into  a  ball  the  size  of  a  large  marble.  His  jaws 
worked  mechanically,  chewing  the  betel  nut,  as  a 
cow  chews  the  cud,  and  his  hands  were  busy  with  a 
little  brass  tube  in  which  he  was  crushing  up  a  fresh 
fjuid,  for  his  teeth  were  old  and  ragged  and  had 
long  been  powerless  to  masticate  the  nut  without 
artificial  aid.  The  fowls  clucked  and  scratched 
about  the  litter  of  trash  with  which  the  space  before 
the  house  was  strewn;  and  a  monkey  of  the  kind  the 
Malays  call  brok,  and  train  to  pluck  cocoanuts,  s.it 


GO  DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

on  a  wooden  box  fixed  on  the  top  of  an  upright  pole, 
searching  dihgently  for  fleas  and  occasionally  emit- 
ting a  plaintive,  mournful  whimper.  In  the  dim 
interior  of  the  house  the  forms  of  two  or  three  women 
could  be  indistinctly  seen,  and  their  voices  sounded 
amid  the  recurring  clack  of  crockery.  Now  and 
again  a  laugh — the  laugh  of  a  very  young  girl — 
rippled  out,  its  merry  cadences  striking  a  note  of 
joyousness  and  youth. 

Presently  a  youngster,  brilliantly  dressed  in  silks 
of  many  colours,  swaggered  into  the  compound. 
He  carried  a  kris  in  his  girdle,  and  a  short  sword, 
with  a  sheath  of  polished  wood,  in  his  hand. 

"O  Che'  Mat  Drus,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  old  man  in  the  doorway. 

"What  thing  is  it.^^"  inquired  tiie  latter,  pausing 
in  the  preparation  of  his  betel  quid,  and  raising 
weary  eyes  to  gaze  on  the  newcomer. 

"The  Grandfather  (Chief)  sends  greetings  and 
bids  you  come  on  the  morrow's  morn  to  the  rice-field 
—you  and  all  your  folk,  male  and  female,  young  and 
old — to  aid  in  plucking  the  tares  from  amid  the 
standing  crop." 

"It  is  well,"  mumbled  Che'  Mat  Drus,  resuming 
his  pounding  stolidly. 

"But  listen.  The  Grandfather  sends  word  that 
no  one  of  your  household  is  to  remain  behind.  Do 
you  understand?  The  womenfolk  also  nuist  come, 
even  down  to  the  girl  Minah,  whom  your  son  Daman 
liatli  recently  taken  to  wife." 

"If  there  be  no  sickness,  calamity,  or  impediment 


DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR  G7 

we  will  surely  come,"  Mat  Drus  made  answer,  em- 
ploying the  cautious  formula  of  his  people. 

"And  forget  not  the  girl  Minah,"  added  the  youth. 

But  here  a  third  voice  broke  into  the  conversation 
— a  voice  shrill  and  harsh  and  angry,  which  ran  up 
the  scale  to  a  painful  pitch,  and  broke  queerly  on  the 
higher  notes. 

'.'Have  you  the  heart,  Kria?  Have  you  the  heart 
to  bring  this  message  to  my  man.  We  are  both  of 
age,  you  and  I.  We  know  and  understand.  May 
the  Grandfather  die  by  a  spear  cast  from  afar !  Ma^' 
he  die  a  violent  death,  stabbed,  bowstrung  and  im- 
paled crosswise!  May  he  die  vomiting  blood,  and 
you,  too,  Kria,  who  are  but  the  hunting-dog  of  the 
Chief!" 

"Peace!  Peace!"  cried  Mat  Drus  in  an  agitated 
voice,  turning  upon  his  wife  a  face  that  betokened 
an  agony  of  fear.  "Hold  your  peace,  woman  with- 
out shame.  And  Kria,  do  you  tell  the  Grandfather 
that  we  will  surely  come,  aye,  and  the  girl  Minah 
also,  according  to  his  bidding;  and  heed  not  the 
words  of  this  so  foolish  woman  of  mine." 

"I  care  not  to  bandy  words  with  a  hag,"  said 
Kria.  "But  the  Grandfather  will  be  wroth  when 
he  learns  of  the  ill  things  that  your  woman  has 
spoken." 

"They  are  without  meaning — they  are  of  no  ac- 
count— the  words  of  a  woman  who  is  growing  child- 
ish," protested  Mat  Drus.  "Pay  no  heed  to  them, 
and  I  pray  you,  speak  not  to  the  Grandfather  con- 
cerning them." 


68  DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

"She  hath  a  wicked  mouth,  this  woman  of  yours, 
and  it  is  not  fitting  that  such  words  should  be  spoken. 
I  am  loath  to  repeat  them  to  the  Grandfather,  for 
were  I  to  do  so,  a  great  evil  would  certainly  overtake 
you.  Show  me  that  spear  of  yours — the  ancient 
spear  with  a  silver  hasp  at  the  base  of  the  blade.  I 
have  a  mind  to  borrow  it.  Ah,  it  is  a  good  spear, 
and  I  will  take  it  as  an  earnest  of  the  love  you  bear 
me. 

"Take  it,"  said  Mat  Drus  meekly;  and  Kria  hav- 
ing possessed  himself  of  this  weapon,  which  he  had 
long  coveted,  swaggered  off  to  pass  the  word  to  other 
villagers  that  the  Chief  required  their  services  for 
the  weeding  of  his  rice  crop. 

The  sun  stood  high  in  the  heavens,  its  rays  beat- 
ing down  pitilessly  upon  the  broad  expanse  of  rice- 
field.  A  tall  fence  of  bamboo  protected  the  croj), 
shutting  it  off  on  the  one  side  from  the  rhododendron 
scrub  and  the  grazing-grounds  beyond  which  rose 
the  palm  and  fruit  groves  and  the  thatched  roofs 
of  the  village,  and  on  the  other  three  from  the  foresi , 
which  formed  a  dark  bank  of  foliage  rising  abruptly 
from  the  edge  of  the  land  which  had  been  won  from 
it  by  the  labour  of  successive  generations  of  men. 
The  cubit-high  spears  of  the  pddi  carj)eted  the  earth 
with  vivid  colour,  absorbing  the  sun's  rays  and  re- 
fracting them,  and  the  transparent  heat  haze  danced 
thin  and  restless  over  the  flatness  of  the  cultivated 
fields.  The  weeders,  with  their  sarongs  wound 
turban-wise  about  their  heads  to  protect  them  from 


DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR  69 

the  sun,  squatted  at  their  work — men,  women,  and 
little  children — the  vertical  rays  dwarfing  their 
shadows  into  malformed  almost  circular  patches 
around  their  feet.  They  moved  forward  in  an 
irregular  line,  digging  out  the  tares  by  the  roots  with 
their  clumsy  parangs. 

Near  the  centre  of  the  largest  field  a  temporary 
hut  had  been  erected,  walled  and  thatched  with 
palm  fronds.  Within  it  was  garnished  with  a  ceiling- 
cloth  of  white  cotton,  from  which  on  all  sides  de- 
j>ended  wall-hangings  of  the  same  material  and  of 
many  colours.  The  only  furniture  were  the  sleeping- 
mat  and  pillows  of  the  Chief,  and  numerous  brass 
trays,  covered  by  square  pieces  of  patchwork,  and 
filled  with  food  and  sweetmeats  specially  prepared 
for  the  occasion.  These  reposed  upon  a  coarse  mat 
fashioned  from  the  plaited  fronds  of  dried  meng- 
kuang  palms.  In  the  interior  of  the  Malay  Penin- 
sula in  those  days  the  luxury  accessible  to  even  the 
richest  and  most  powerful  natives  was  of  a  some- 
what primitive  order;  but  to  the  eyes  of  the  sim- 
ple villagers  the  interior  of  this  hut  represented 
as  advanced  a  standard  of  comfort  and  civiliza- 
tion as  did  the  chateau  of  a  noble  in  pre-revolu- 
tionary  France  to  the  peasants  who  dwelt  on  his 
estate. 

About  noon  the  Chief  emerged  from  his  hut  and 
began  a  tour  of  inspection  among  the  weeders, 
throwing  a  word  to  one  or  another  of  the  men,  and 
staring  boldly  at  the  women,  with  the  air  of  a  farmer 
apprizing  his  stock.     Half  a  dozen  well-armed  and 


70  DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

gaudily  clad  youths  followed  at  the  heels  of  their 
master. 

Old  Mat  Drus  and  his  son  Daman,  with  three  or 
four  women,  were  squatting  near  the  edge  of  the 
jungle,  weeding  diligently,  and  as  the  Chief  drew 
near,  Minah,  the  girl  who  had  recently  married 
Daman  crept  a  little  closer  to  her  husband. 

The  Chief  halted  and  stood  for  a  while  gazing 
at  the  group  of  toilers.  He  was  a  big,  burly  fellow, 
of  a  full  habit  of  body,  and  well  past  middle  age. 
He  had  a  large,  square,  brutal  face,  garnished  with 
a  ragged  fringe  of  beard  that  proclaimed  his  Su- 
matran  descent,  and  his  feet  and  hands  were  of 
unusual  size.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  was  harsh 
jmd  coarse. 

"What  is  the  news,  Mat  Drus?"  he  asked,  em- 
ploying the  common  formula  of  greeting. 

"The  news  is  good,  O  Grandfather,"  replied  Mat 
Drus,  stopping  in  his  work,  and  turning  submissively 
toward  the  Chief.  All  the  rest  of  the  party,  squat- 
ting himibly  in  the  dust,  moved  so  as  to  face  their 
master,  the  womenfolk  bowing  low  their  heads  to 
evade  the  hungry  eyes  of  the  Chief. 

"Who  is  this  child.'^"  the  great  man  inquired,  in- 
dicating Minah  with  his  outthrust  chin. 

"She  is  the  wife  of  your  servant's  son,  O  Grand- 
father," replied  Mat  Drus. 

"Whose  daughter  is  she?" 

"She  is  your  servant's  daughter,  O  Grandfather," 
an  old  and  ill-favoured  woman  made  answer,  from 
her  place  at  Mat  Drus's  elbow. 


DKOIT  DU  SEIGNEUR  71 

"Verily  a  sdlak  fruit,"  cried  the  Chief.  "An  ugly 
tree,  thorny  and  thin,  are  you,  but  you  have  borne 
a  pretty,  luscious  fruit." 

The  weeders  laughed  obsequiously. 

"How  very  witty  are  the  words  of  our  Grand- 
father!" ejaculated  Mat  Drus,  in  a  voice  carefully 
calculated  to  reach  the  ears  of  his  master.  The 
Chief  did  not  even  condescend  to  look  at  him. 

"Dainty  Fruit,"  he  said,  addressing  Minah, 
"you  are  parched  by  reason  of  your  toil  and  the 
heat.  Come  to  my  hut  yonder,  and  I  will  give  you 
delicious  sweetmeats  to  slake  the  thirst  in  that  pretty 
throat  of  yours." 

"Don't  want  to,"  mumbled  the  girl. 

"Nay,  but  I  bid  you  come,"  said  the  Chief. 

"  Go,  child,"  urged  her  mother. 

"Don't  want  to,"  the  girl  repeated,  edging  more 
close  to  Daman,  as  though  seeking  his  protec- 
tion. 

"What  meaneth  this?"  roared  the  Chief,  whose 
eyes  began  to  wax  red.  "Do  as  I  bid,  you  daughter 
of  an  evil  mother." 

"She  is  afraid,"  pleaded  Mat  Drus  in  a  trembling 
voice.  "  Be  not  wroth,  O  Grandfather.  She  is  very 
young,  and  her  fears  are  heavy  upon  her." 

"May  she  die  a  violent  death!"  bellowed  the 
Chief.     "Come,  I  say.     Come!" 

"Go,  child,  go,"  urged  all  the  women  in  a  chorus 
of  frightened  whispers;  but  the  girl  only  nestled 
clo.«;er  to  her  husband. 

"Are  vour  ears  deaf.'"  cried  the  Chief.     "Come 


72  DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

forthwith,  or  in  a  little  you  shall  be  dragged  to  my 
hut." 

"Have  patience,  O  Grandfather,"  said  Daman 
sulkily.  "She  is  my  wife  to  me.  She  doth  not 
desire  to  go.     Let  her  be." 

"Arrogant  one!"  screamed  the  Chief.  "You  are 
indeed  a  brave  man  to  dare  to  flout  me.  Already 
I  hear  the  new-turned  earth  shouting  for  you  to 
the  coffin  planks.  You  shall  lend  a  hand  to  drag 
her  to  my  hut." 

At  the  word  Daman  leaped  to  liis  feet.  Until  now, 
like  the  rest  of  his  fellows,  he  had  squatted  humbly 
at  the  feet  of  the  Chief — a  serf  in  the  presence  of  his 
lord;  but  now  he  stood  erect,  an  equal  facing  an  equal 
— a  man  defending  his  womenfolk  from  one  who 
sought  to  put  a  shame  upon  them  and  upon  him. 

"Peace,  Daman!  Have  patience!"  cried  Mat 
Driis,  his  voice  shaking  with  terror;  but  his  son  had 
no  thought  to  spare  for  any  save  the  Chief  just  then. 
His  clear  young  eyes  looked  unflinchingly  into  the 
brutal,  bloodshot  orbs  set  in  the  sodden,  self-indulgent 
face  of  his  enemy,  and  the  Chief's  gaze  faltered  and 
quailed.  Daman's  palm  smote  his  wooden  dagger- 
hilt  with  a  resounding  slap,  and  the  Chief  reeled 
luistily  backward,  almost  losing  his  footing.  The 
youngster,  inspired  by  the  passion  of  fury  and  in- 
dignation that  possessed  him,  was  lifted  out  of  him- 
self. The  traditions  of  a  lifetime  were  forgotten, 
together  with  the  fear  of  rank  and  power  that  custom 
had  instilled  into  him.  The  peasant  had  given  place 
to    the    primordial    man,    fighting    for    his    woman 


DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR  7?> 

against  no  matter  what  odds,  and  had  the  two  been 
alone  it  would,  in  that  hour,  have  gone  ill  with  the 
Chief. 

The  hitter's  armed  youths  surged  up  around  their 
tottering  master,  and  the  coward  felt  his  courage 
returning  to  him  when  he  realized  that  they  were  at 
hand. 

No  word  was  spoken  for  a  little  space,  as  the 
enemies  eyed  one  another;  but  Mtnah,  crouching 
close  to  Daman's  mother,  whimpered  miserably, 
though  a  thrill  of  love  and  admiration  ran  through 
her  as  she  marked  the  bearing  of  her  man. 

Suddenly  Kria,  who  stood  a  little  to  the  right  of 
the  Chief,  raised  his  arm  in  the  act  to  throw,  and 
the  intense  sunlight  flashed  for  a  moment  on  the 
naked  blade  of  a  spear — a  spear  with  a  silver  hasp 
which,  until  recently,  had  been  the  property  of 
Drmian's  father.  Kria's  eye  sought  that  of  the 
Chief,  and  the  latter  signalled  to  him  to  use  his 
weapon.  Immediately  the  long  spear,  with  its 
shining  blade,  flew  forward  with  incredible  velocity, 
like  a  snake  in  the  act  of  striking;  but  Daman  leaped 
aside,  and  the  missile  hissed  harmlessly  past  him. 

"Strike  with  the  paralyzer,"  yelled  the  Chief; 
and  at  the  word  one  of  his  youths  ran  forward  and 
stabbed  swiftly  and  repeatedly  at  Daman  with  a 
long,  uncanny-looking  weapon.  It  was  a  very  long 
forked  spear,  with  two  sharp  blades,  barbed  and  of 
unequal  length;  and  in  spite  of  Daman's  frantic 
efforts  to  avoid  the  thrusts  of  his  assailant,  the  longer 
of  the  two  points  was  presently  driven  deep  into  his 


74  DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

chest.  He  was  now  powerless,  for  the  barbed  tip 
could  not  be  withdrawn,  and  the  sharp  point  of  the 
shorter  blade  prevented  him  from  running  up  the 
spear,  and  getting  to  close  quarters  with  his  kris, 
as  has  frequently  been  done  in  the  Peninsula  by  one 
mortally  stricken. 

The  women  screamed  shrilly,  and  Minah  sought 
to  run  to  her  husband's  aid,  but  those  around  her 
held  her  fast  in  spite  of  her  tears  and  struggles. 
The  weeders  from  all  parts  of  the  field  had  assem- 
bled, and  stood  watching  the  unequal  fight,  the  men 
standing  aloof,  murmuring  sullenly,  but  not  daring 
to  interfere,  the  women  huddled  together  in  terrified 
groups,  wailing  piteously — and  above  the  tumult  the 
coarse  laugh  of  the  Chief  rang  out. 

"Verily  a  fish  at  the  tip  of  a  fish  spear!  Watch 
how  lie  writhes  and  wriggles!  Have  a  care  not  to 
kill  him  until  we  have  had  our  sport  with  himj" 

But  Daman,  who  had  not  uttered  a  sound,  was 
still  fighting  gamely.  He  soon  found  that  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  wrench  the  barbed  spear  from 
his  breast,  and  seeing  this,  he  threw  his  kris  violently 
in  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  stabbed  him.  The 
sna'ky  blade  flew  straight  as  a  dart,  and  the  tip  ripped 
open  the  cheek  and  eyelid  of  Daman's  assailant. 
Blinded  by  the  blood,  the  latter  dropped  the  end 
of  the  spear,  and  Daman  now  strove  manfully,  in 
spite  of  the  agony  it  occasioned  him,  to  wrench  the 
))lade  free.  This  was  an  unexpected  turn  for  affairs 
to  take,  and  the  Chief's  laughter  stopped  abruptly. 

"Kill  him!     Kill  him!"  he  screamed  to  his  men: 


DROIT  DU  SEIGNEU'R  75 

and  forthwith  Kria,  who  had  recovered  his  weapon, 
stabbed  Daman  full  in  the  throat  with  the  broad 
spear-blade.  The  murdered  man  collapsed  on  the 
ground,  giving  vent  to  a  thick,  choking  cough,  and 
no  sooner  was  he  down  than  all  the  Chief's  youths 
rushed  in  to  whet  their  blades  in  his  shuddering  flesh. 
Minah,  distraught  with  grief  and  horror,  threw 
herself  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  seeking  to  shut 
out  the  sight  with  her  tightly  clasped  hands;  and  as 
she  lay  on  the  warm  earth,  the  wailing  of  the  women, 
the  rough  growlings  of  the  men,  and  the  soft  whis- 
perings of  the  steel  blades,  piercing  the  now  lifeless 
body  of  her  husband,  told  her  that  all  was  over. 

The  day  waned,  the  darkness  shut  down  over  the 
land,  and  the  moon  rose  above  the  broad,  still  river, 
pale  and  passionless,  looking  calmly  down  upon  a 
world  which,  bathed  in  her  rays,  seemed  unutterably 
peaceful  and  serene.  But  all  through  that  night, 
and  during  many  days  and  nights  to  come,  the 
pitiful  wailing  of  a  girl  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
silent  hours  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Chief's 
compound.  It  was  only  ]Minah  mourning  for  her 
dead,  and  taking  more  time  than  her  friends  thought 
altogether  necessary-  to  become  accustomed  to  her 
surroundings  as  one  of  the  household  of  the  Chief. 

Her  new  lord  was  not  unnaturally  annoyed  by 
her  senseless  clamour;  and  beating,  he  discovered, 
tended  only  to  increase  the  nuisance.  But  crumpled 
rose  leaves  are  to  be  met  with  in  every  bed  of  flowers, 
and  the  Chief  had,  at  anv  rate,  the  satisfaction  of 


76  DROIT  DU  SEIGNEUR 

knowing  that  for  the  future  the  season  of  weeding 
would  be  a  merry  time  for  him,  and  that  all  would 
be  conducted  with  seemliness  and  with  order,  with- 
out any  risk  of  his  peace  or  his  pleasure  being  further 
disturbed  by  rude  and  vulgar  brawls. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

VERY  far  away,  in  the  remote  interior  of 
Pahang,  there  is  a  river  called  the  Telom — 
an  angry  little  stream,  which  fights  and 
tears  its  way  through  the  vast  primeval  forest, 
biting  savagely  at  its  banks,  wrestling  petulantly 
with  the  rocks  and  boulders  that  obstruct  its  path, 
squabbling  fiercely  over  long,  sloping  beds  of  shingle, 
and  shaking  a  glistening  mane  of  broken  water,  as 
it  rushes  downward  in  its  fury.  Sometimes,  during 
the  prevalence  of  the  northeast  monsoon,  when  the 
rain  has  fallen  heavily  in  the  mountains,  the  Telom 
will  rise  fourteen  or  fifteen  feet  in  a  couple  of  hours; 
and  then,  for  a  space,  its  waters  change  their  temper 
from  wild,  impetuous  rage  to  a  sullen  wrath  which 
is  even  more  formidable  and  dangerous.  But  it  is 
when  the  river  is  shrunken  bj^  drought  that  it  is  most 
of  all  to  be  feared;  for  at  such  times  sharp  and  jagged 
rocks,  over  which,  at  ordinary  seasons,  a  bamboo 
raft  is  able  to  glide  in  safety,  prick  upward  from  the 
bed  of  the  stream  to  within  an  inch  or  two  of  the 
surface,  and  rip  up  everything  that  chances  to  come 
in  contact  with  them  as  cleanly  as  though  it  were 
cut  with  a  razor.  At  the  foot  of  the  largest  rapid 
in  the  Telom  one  of  these  boulders  forms,  in  tlry 
weather,  a  very  efficient  trap  for  the  unwary.     Tlie 

77 


78   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

channel  narrows  somewhat  at  this  point,  and  is  con- 
fined between  high  walls  of  rock,  water-worn  to  a 
glassy  smoothness,  and  the  raging  torrent  pouring 
down  the  fall  is  obstructed  by  the  jagged  blocks  of 
granite,  with  which  the  river-bed  is  studded.  One 
of  these  leans  shghtly  upstream,  for  the  friction  of 
ages  has  fashioned  a  deep  cavity  at  the  point  where 
the  full  force  of  the  river  strikes  it;  and  when  the 
waters  are  low,  it  is  impossible  for  a  raft  to  avoid 
this  obstacle. 

The  rafts,  which  are  the  only  craft  in  use  upon  the 
upper  reaches  of  Malayan  rivers,  are  formed  of 
about  eighteen  bamboos  lashed  side  by  side,  and 
held  in  horizontal  position  by  stout  wooden  stag's, 
bound  firmly  above  and  across  them  by  lacings  of 
rattan.  They  are  usually  some  twenty  feet  in 
length,  the  bow  consisting  of  the  larger  ends  of  the 
bamboos,  trimmed  so  as  to  present  an  even  front  to 
the  stream,  and  the  sterns  of  the  tapering  extremities 
cut  short  a  couple  of  feet  or  so  from  their  tips. 
Bamboos  of  rather  larger  size  than  the  others  ai"e 
selected  to  form  the  two  sides  of  the  raft,  and  in  the 
centre  a  low  platform,  some  four  feet  square,  is 
raised  above  the  general  level,  and  floored  with 
split  and  flattened  bamboos  for  the  accommodation 
of  a  passenger  or  baggage.  Each  bamboo,  of  course, 
consists  of  a  series  of  more  or  less  watertight  com- 
pai'tments — quite  watertight  at  the  outset,  very 
imperfectly  so  later  on,  when  the  rafts  have  been 
subjected  to  the  rough  usage  to  which  a  journey 
down  a  rock-  and  rapid-beset  river  exposes  them;  but 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM       79 

even  at  their  worst  they  possess  great  flotage,  though 
their  very  Hghtness  causes  them  to  wallow  knee-deep 
as  they  whirl  headlong  down  a  fall  at  a  pace  that  is 
exhilarating,  with  the  angry  waters  roaring  around 
and  over  them.  The  more  shrunken  the  stream, 
the  more  desperate  the  pace  at  which  a  bamboo  raft 
spins  down  the  rapids,  for  the  height  of  the  fall 
suffers  no  change,  while  in  the  dry  season  the  volume 
of  water  is  insuflficient  to  break  the  drop  and  soften 
the  descent. 

Thus  it  befalls  that,  when  the  river  is  low,  a  raft 
.sent  charging  down  this  big  rapid  of  the  Telom,  be- 
tween the  sheer  walls  of  granite,  comes  to  eternal 
grief  when  it  strikes  the  leaning  rock  which  obstructs 
the  channel  near  its  foot.  A  sound  like  a  scream — 
the  agonized  pain  cry  of  the  bamboos — is  heard  above 
the  tumult  of  the  waters  as  the  raft  strikes  the 
boulder;  another  second,  and  the  bow  is  fast  wedged 
beneath  the  projecting  ledge  of  rock;  again  the 
bamboos  give  a  despairing  shriek,  and  the  tail  of 
the  raft  rises  swiftly  to  a  perpendicular  position. 
For  a  moment  it  waggles  irresolutely,  and  then,  like 
the  sail  of  a  windmill,  it  whirls  roimd  in  the  air,  the 
l)ow  held  firmly  in  position  by  the  rock,  serving  as 
its  axle,  and  smites  the  watc^rs  beyond  with  a  re- 
soimding  flap.  Every  one  of  the  bamboos  is  smashed 
in  an  instant  into  starting,  shrieking  slivers,  which 
have  edges  that  can  cut  as  sharply  as  the  keenest 
knife.  If  there  be  men  on  board,  they  are  cast  high 
into  the  air,  are  broken  pitilessly  upon  the  rocks, 
are  wounded  horriblv  bv  the  matchwood  that  was 


80   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

once  their  raft,  or  are  to  be  seen  battling  desperately 
with  that  raging  torrent.  If,  however,  he  can  reach 
the  water  without  sustaining  serious  hurt,  a  stout 
swimmer  has  a  good  chance  of  life,  for  a  strong  cur- 
rent sets  off,  as  well  as  toward,  every  midstream 
boulder,  and,  if  use  be  made  of  this,  a  man  may  win 
in  safety  to  the  calmer  waters  down  below  the  rapid. 

Jeram  Musoh  Karam— the  Rapid  of  the  Drowned 
Enemy — this  place  is  named  in  the  vernacular; 
and  native  tradition  tells  of  an  invading  expedition 
utterly  destroyed  in  this  terrible,  rock-bound  death- 
trap. But  men  who  know  the  records  of  the  river 
tell  you  that  it  spares  friend  no  more  than  it  once 
spared  foe;  and  since  Malays  are  ever  wont  to  take 
their  chance  of  danger  rather  than  submit  to  the 
abandonment  of  a  raft,  and  to  the  labour  which  con- 
structing another  in  its  place  entails,  the  number  of 
its  kills  waxes  larger  and  larger  as  the  years  slip  away. 

The  probability  that  its  supply  of  victims  will  be 
fairly  constant  is  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  it  is 
precisely  at  the  season  when  the  river  is  at  its  low- 
est that  the  valley  of  the  Telom  fills  with  life.  The 
black  tin  ore,  found  in  the  sands  and  shingles  which 
form  the  bed  of  the  stream,  is  only  accessible  dur- 
ing a  drought,  and  the  Malays  come  hither  in  little 
family  parties  to  wash  for  it.  All  day  long,  men, 
women,  and  small  children  stand  in  the  shallows, 
deftly  manipulating  their  big  flat  wooden  trays, 
sluicing  the  lighter  sands  over  the  edges,  picking 
out  and  throwing  away  the  pebbles,  and  storing 
the  little  ])inclies  of  almost  pure  tin,  which  in  the  end 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM   81 

remain,  in  the  hollows  of  bamboos,  which  they  carry 
slung  from  their  waists.  At  night-time  they  camp 
in  rude  palm-leaf  shelters,  built  on  the  banks  of 
*Iie  stream;  roast  in  the  cleft  of  a  split  stick  such  fish 
as  they  have  caught;  boil  their  ration  of  rice;  and 
when  full-fed,  discuss  the  results  of  the  day's  toil, 
ore  they  lie  doWn  to  sleep,  lulled  by  the  night  songs 
of  tlio  forest  around  them.  The  quantity  of  tin 
won  by  them  is  not  large;  but  Malays  are  capable 
of  a  great  deal  of  patient  labour  if  it  chances  to  take 
ii  form  that  they  happen,  for  the  moment,  to  find 
congenial,  and  these  tin-washing  expeditions  serve 
to  break  the  monotony  of  their  days. 

During  the  dry  season,  moreover,  the  jungles  are 
one  degree  less  damp  and  sodden  than  at  other 
times,  and  the  searchers  for  getah  rattan,  and  other 
jungle  produce,  seize  the  opportunity  to  penetrate 
into  the  gloomy  depths  of  the  forest  where  these 
things  are  to  be  found.  Nothing  is  more  dreary 
than  a  sojourn  in  such  places  when  the  rains  come 
in  with  the  northeast  monsoon,  for  then  the  sun  is 
unable  to  force  a  ray  through  the  sodden  canopy  of 
leaves  and  branches  overhead  to  dry  what  the  down- 
l)Ours  have  soaked,  the  drip  from  above  never  ceases, 
even  when  for  a  little  the  rain  abates,  and  the  leeches 
go  upon  the  warpath  in  their  millions  during  all 
the  hours  of  daylight.  By  a  merciful  disposition  of 
Providence,  these  rapacious  and  insidious  blood 
suckers  go  to  bed  at  dusk  like  humans.  Were  it 
otherwise,  a  night  passed  among  them  in  a  Malayan 
forest  would  mean  certain  death. 


82   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

Meanwhile,  the  magnificent  duri-an  groves,  which 
grow  on  the  banks  of  the  upper  reaches  of  the  Telom, 
are  rich  with  a  profusion  of  fruit,  and  the  semi-wild 
tribes  of  Sdkai  come  from  far  and  near  to  camp  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  giant  trees,  and  to  gorge 
rapturously.  They  erect  small  shacks  just  beyond 
the  range  of  the  falling  fruit,  for  a  blow  from  a 
duri-an,  which  is  about  the  size  of  a  Rugby  football, 
and  covered  all  over  with  stout,  pyramidal  thorns, 
is  a  by  no  means  infrequent  cause  of  death  in  the 
Malay  Peninsula.  By  day  and  night  they  main- 
tain their  watch,  and  when,  during  the  hours  of 
darkness,  the  dulled  thud  of  the  fruit  falling  into 
the  underwood  is  heard,  a  wild  stampede  ensues 
from  the  shelters  of  the  jungle  dwellers,  in  order 
that  it  may  be  immediately  secured.  This  is  nec- 
essary, for  every  denizen  of  the  forest,  including  the 
big  carnivora,  delight  in  the  duri-an,  and  are  at- 
tracted to  it  by  its  strange  and  wonderful  smell; 
and  a  man  must  be  quick  in  the  gathering  if  he 
would  avoid  a  fight  for  possession  with  some  of  the 
most  formidable  of  his  natural  enemies. 

But  it  is  not  only  by  human  beings  that  the  valley 
of  the  Telom  is  overrun  during  the  dry  season  of  the 
year;  for  it  is  then  that  the  great  salt  lick  of  Misong 
is  crowded  with  game.  The  Misong  is  a  small 
stream  that  falls  into  the  Telom  on  its  left  bank, 
some  miles  above  the  ra])ids.  About  a  couple  of 
thousand  yards  up  the  Mtsong,  from  its  point  of 
junction  with  the  Telom,  there  is  a  spot  where  its 
right  bank,  though  covered  with  \irsin  forest,  is 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM   83 

much  trodden  by  the  passage  of  game.  The  under- 
wood, usually  as  dense  as  a  thick-set  hedge,  is  here  so 
worn  down  that  it  is  thin  and  sparse.  The  trees  are 
smooth  in  places,  and  the  lower  branches  have  been 
trimmed  evenly,  just  as  those  of  the  chestnuts  in 
Bushy  Park  are  trimmed  by  the  fallow-deer;  and 
here  and  there  the  trunks  are  marked  by  great  belts 
of  mud,  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  showing  where 
wild  elephants  have  stood,  rocking  to  and  fro,  gently 
rubbing  their  backs  against  the  rough  bark.  Great 
clefts  are  worn  in  the  river  bank  on  both  sides 
of  the  stream,  such  as  the  kine  make  near  Malayan 
villages  at  the  points  where  they  are  accustomed 
daily  to  go  down  to  water;  but  on  the  Misong  these 
have  been  trodden  down  by  the  passage  of  wild 
animals. 

A  bold  sweep  of  the  stream  forms  at  this  point  a 
rounded  headland,  flat  and  level,  and  covering,  it 
may  be,  some  two  acres  of  ground.  Here  and  there 
T)atclies  of  short,  closely  cropped  grass  colour  the 
ground  a  brilliant  green,  but,  for  the  most  part,  the 
earth  underfoot  has  the  appearance  of  a  deeply 
ploughed   field.     This   is   the   salt   lick "  of   Misong. 

The  soil  is  here  impregnated  with  saline  deposits, 
and  the  beasts  of  the  forest  come  hither  in  their  mul- 
titudes to  lick  the  salt,  which  to  them — as  to  the 
aboriginal  tribes  of  the  Peninsula  also — is  "sweeter" 
than  anything  in  the  world.  Sakai  or  Semang  will 
squat  around  a  wild-banana  leaf,  on  to  which  a  bag 
of  rock  salt  has  been  emptied,  and  devour  it  glut- 
tonously, sucking  their  fingers,  like  a  pack  of  greedy 


84   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

children  round  a  box  of  sugar  plums.  It  is  Nature 
in  them  howling  for  the  corrective  which  alone  can 
keep  scurvy  at  arm's  length  from  the  perpetual 
vegetarian;  and  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  driven  by 
a  similar  craving,  risk  all  dangers  to  obey  a  like 
command.  When  the  waters  of  the  Misong  are 
swollen  with  rain,  the  salt  cannot  be  got  at,  and 
the  lick  is  deserted,  but  in  dry  weather  all  the  sur- 
rounding jungle  is  alive  \Aith  game,  and  at  night- 
time it  is  transformed  into  a  sort  of  Noah's  Ark. 
In  the  soft  and  yielding  earth  may  be  seen  the  slot 
of  deer  of  a  dozen  varieties;  the  hoof  prints  of  the 
wild  buffalo,  the  strongest  of  all  the  beasts;  the  long 
sharp  scratches  made  by  the  toes  of  the  rhinoceros; 
the  pitted  trail  and  the  deep  roofings  of  the  wild 
swine;  the  pad  track  of  the  tiger;  the  tiny  footprint* 
of  tiie  kanchil,  the  perfectly  formed  little  antelope, 
which  is  not  quite  as  heavy  as  a  rabbit;  and  thfc 
great  round  sockets  punched  in  the  clay  by  tht 
ponderous  feet  of  elephants.  Here  come,  too,  the 
black  panther  and  the  tapir,  the  packs  of  wild  dogs, 
which  always  hunt  in  company,  and  the  jungle  cats 
of  all  kinds,  from  the  brute  which  resembles  a  tiger 
in  all  save  its  bulk,  to  the  slender  spotted  creature, 
built  as  lightly  as  a  greyhound.  Sitting  in  the  fork 
of  a  tree,  high  above  the  heads  of  the  game,  so  that 
your  wind  cannot  disturb  them,  you  may  watch  all 
the  animal  life  of  the  jungle  come  and  go  within  a 
few  yards  of  you,  and  if  you  have  the  patience  to 
keep  your  rifle  quiet,  you  may  see  a  thousand  won- 
derful things  on  a  clear  moonlit  night. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM       85 

It  was  to  the  salt  lick  of  Misong  that  my  friend 
Pandak  Aris  came  one  day,  with  two  Sakai  com- 
panions, from  his  house  below  the  rapids.  When 
I  knew  him,  he  was  an  old  man  of  seventy  or  there- 
about, wizened  and  dry,  with  deep  furrows  of 
wrinkle  on  face  and  body.  His  left  arm  was  shrivelled 
and  powerless,  and  he  bore  many  ugly  scars  besides. 
His  closely  cropped  hair  was  white  as  hoarfrost, 
and  from  his  chin  there  depended  a  long  goat's 
beard  of  the  same  hue,  which  waggled  to  and  fro 
with  the  motion  of  his  lips.  Two  solitary  yellow 
fangs  were  set  in  his  gums,  and  his  mouth  was  a 
cavern  stained  to  a  dark  red  colour  with  betel-nut 
juice.  His  words  came  indistinctly  through  his 
quid  and  the  wad  of  coarse  tobacco  which  he  held 
wedged  between  his  upper  lip  and  his  toothless  gums; 
but  he  had  many  things  to  tell  concerning  the  jungles 
in  which  he  had  lived  so  long,  and  of  the  Sakai  folk 
with  whom  hehad  associated,  and,  whenever  I  chanced 
to  tie  up  my  boat  for  the  night  at  his  bathing-raft, 
we  were  wont  to  sit  talking  till  the  dawn  was  redden- 
ing in  the  east,  for  age  had  made  of  him  a  very  bad 
sleeper. 

In  his  youth  he  had  come  across  the  Peninsuhi 
from  Rembau,  near  its  western  seaboard,  to  tlic 
interior  of  Pahang,  on  the  other  side  of  the  main 
range  of  mountains,  which  run  from  north  to  soutli. 
He  had  had  no  si)ecial  object  in  liis  journey,  but  had 
drifted  aimlessly,  as  young  men  will,  to  the  fate  that 
awaited  him,  he  knew  not  where.  She  proved  lo 
be  a  Jelai  girl  whose  people  lived  near  the  liuu'ts  of 


86   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

the  Sakai  country,  and,  after  he  had  married  her, 
they  took  up  their  abode  a  couple  of  days'  journey 
up  the  Telom  River,  where  they  might  be  completely 
alone,  for  no  other  Malays  lived  permanently  in  this 
valley.  She  had  borne  him  three  sons  and  two 
daughters,  and  he  had  planted  cocoanuts  and  fruit 
trees,  which  now  cast  a  grateful  shade  about  his 
dwelling,  and  cultivated  a  patch  of  rice  annually 
in  a  new  clearing  on  the  side  of  one  of  the  neigh- 
bouring hills.  Thus  he  had  lived,  quite  contentedly, 
without  once  leaving  the  valley,  for  nearly  fifty 
years  before  I  first  met  him.  He  had  remained, 
during  all  that  long,  long  time,  wrapped  in  a  seclusion 
and  in  an  untroubled  peace  and  quiet  almost  un- 
imaginable to  a  modern  European;  rarely  seeing  a 
strange  face  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  concerned 
only  with  the  microscopic  incidents  in  which  he  was 
himself  concerned,  and  entirely  undisturbed  by  the 
hum  and  throb  of  the  great  world  without.  Think 
of  it,  ye  white  men!  He  had  only  one  life  on  earth, 
and  this  is  how  he  spent  it — like  the  frog  beneath  the 
half  cocoanut  shell,  as  the  Malay  proverb  has  it, 
which  dreams  not  that  there  are  other  worlds  than 
his.  Wars  had  raged  within  sixty  miles  of  his  home, 
but  his  peace  had  not  been  broken;  innnense  changes 
had  been  wrought  in  political,  social,  and  economic 
conditions  from  one  end  of  the  Peninsula  to  the 
other,  but  they  had  affected  him  not  at  all.  The 
eternal  forest,  in  which  and  by  which  he  lived,  had 
remained  innnutable;  and  the  one  great  event  of 
his  life,  which  had  scored  its  nuirk  deeply  upon  both 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM   87 

his  mind  and  liis  body,  was  that  which  had  befallen 
him  at  the  salt  lick  of  Misong,  a  score  of  years  and 
more  before  I  chanced  upon  him. 

He  told  me  the  tale  brokenly,  as  a  child  might 
do,  as  he  and  I  sat  talking  in  the  dim  light  of  the 
ddmar  torch,  guttering  on  its  clumsy  wooden  stand, 
set  in  the  centre  of  the  mat-strewn  floor;  and  ever 
and  anon  he  pointed  to  his  stiff  left  arm,  and  to 
certain  ugly  scars  upon  his  body,  calling  upon  them 
to  bear  witness  that  he  did  not  lie. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  that  Pandak  Aris  and  his 
two  Sakai  followers  reached  the  salt  lick  of  Misong. 
They  had  been  roaming  through  the  forest  all  dny 
long,  blazing  getah  trees,  for  it  was  Pandak  Aris's 
intention  to  prepare  a  large  consignment  of  the 
precious  gum,  so  that  it  might  be  in  readiness  when 
the  washers  for  tin  came  up  into  the  valley>  during 
the  next  dry  season.  The  Malay  and  his  Sakai  all 
knew  the  salt  lick  well,  and  as  it  was  an  open  space 
near  running  water,  and  they  were  hungry  after 
their  tramp,  they  decided  to  halt  here  and  cook  rice. 
They  built  a  fire  near  the  base  of  a  giant  tree,  which 
grew  a  hundred  yards  or  so  inland  from  the  left 
bank  of  the  stream,  at  a  point  where  the  furrowed 
earth  of  the  lick  begins  to  give  place  to  heavy  jungle. 
The  dry  sticks  blazed  up  bravely,  the  flame  showing 
pale  and  almost  invisible  in  the  strong  sunlight  of 
the  afternoon,  while  thin  vapours  danced  frenziedly 
above  it.  The  small  black  metal  rice  pot  was 
propped  upon  three  stones  in  the  centre  of  the 
crackling  fuel,  and  while  one  of  the  Sakai  sat  stirring 


88   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  T£L0M 

the  rice,  with  a  spoon  improvised  from  a  piece  of 
wood,  and  the  other  plucked  leeches  from  his  bleed- 
ing legs,  and  cut  them  thoughtfully  into  pieces  with 
his  parang,  Pandak  Aris  began  to  prepare  a  quid  of 
betel  nut  from  the  ingredients,  which  he  carried  in 
a  set  of  little  brass  boxes,  wrapped  in  a  cotton  hand- 
kerchief. The  gentle  murmur  of  bird  and  insect, 
which  precedes  the  wild  clamour  of  the  sunset  hour, 
was  beginning  to  purr  through  the  forest,  and  the 
Misong  sang  drowsily  as  it  pattered  over  its  pebbles. 
Pandak  Aris's  eyes  began  to  blink  sleepily,  and  the 
S^kai  who  had  dismembered  his  last  leech,  stretched 
himself  in  ungainly  wise,  and  then,  rolling  over  on 
his  face,  was  asleep  before  his  nose  touched  the  grass. 
This  is  the  manner  of  the  Sakai,  and  of  some  of 
the  other  lower  animals. 

Suddenly  a  wild  tumult  of  noise  shattered  the 
stillness.  The  Sakai,  who  was  minding  the  rice, 
screamed  a  shrill  cry  of  warning  to  his  companions, 
but  it  was  drowned  by  the  sound  of  a  ferocious 
trumpeting,  not  unlike  the  sound  of  a  steam  siren, 
the  explosive  crashing  of  boughs  and  branches,  the 
rending  of  underwood,  and  a  heavy,  rapid  tramping 
that  seemed  to  shake  the  ground.  The  cooking 
Sakai  had  swung  himself  into  a  tree,  and  was  now 
swarming  up  it,  like  a  monkey,  never  pausing  to 
look  below  until  the  topmost  fork  was  reached.  His 
sleeping  fellow  had  awakened,  at  the  first  alarm, 
with  a  leap  that  carried  him  some  yards  from  the 
spot  where  he  had  been  lying — for  the  Sakai,  who 
can  fall  asleep  like  an  animal,  can  wake  into  com- 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELO:\I       89 

plete  alertness  as  abruptly  as  any  other  forest  crea- 
ture. A  second  later,  he,  too,  was  sitting  in  the 
highest  fork  of  a  friendly  tree;  and  from  their  perches 
both  he  and  his  companion  were  scolding  and  chat- 
tering like  a  couple  of  terrified  apes.  And  all  this 
had  happened  before  Pandak  Aris,  who  had  only 
been  dozing,  had  fully  realized  that  danger  was  at 
hand.  Then  he  also  bounded  to  his  feet,  and  as  he 
did  so,  two  long  white  tusks,  and  a  massive  trunk 
held  menacinglj'  aloft,  two  fierce  little  red  eyes,  and 
an  enormous  bulk  of  dingy  crinkled  hide  came  into 
view  within  a  yard  of  him. 

Pandak  Aris  dodged  behind  the  trunk  of  the  big 
tree  with  amazing  rapidity,  thus  saving  himself 
from  the  onslaught  of  the  squealing  elephant,  and  a 
moment  later  he,  too,  had  swimg  himself  into  safety 
among  the  branches  overhead;  for  a  jungle-bred 
Malay  is  quick  enough  on  occasion,  thongli  he  cannot 
rival  the  extraordinary  activity  of  She  Sakai,  which 
is  that  of  a  startled  stag. 

The  elephant  charged  the  fire  savagely,  scattering 
the  burning  brands  far  and  wide,  trampling  upon  the 
rice  pot,  till  it  was  flattened  to  the  likeness  of  a  piece 
of  tin,  kneading  the  brass  betel  boxes  deep  into  the 
earth,  keej^ing  up  all  the  while  a  torrent  of  ferocious 
squealings.  The  whole  scene  only  lasted  a  moment 
or  two,  and  then  the  brute  whirled  clumsily  about, 
and  still  trumpeting  its  war-cry,  disappeared  into 
the  forest  as  suddenly  as  it  had  emerged  from 
it. 

Pandak  Aris  and  the  two  Sakai  sat  in  the  trees, 


90   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

and  listened  to  the  crashing  of  the  elephant  through 
the  underwood  growing  fainter  and  fainter  in  the 
distance,  until  at  last  it  died  awa^'*. 

"How  can  one  name  such  ferocity  as  this?"  mur- 
mured Pandak  Aris,  with  the  aggrieved,  haK  won- 
dering patience  of  the  Oriental,  in  whose  long- 
enduring  soul  calamity  never  awakens  more  than  a 
certain  mild  disgust.  He  looked  down  very  sadly 
upon  the  flattened  metal  which  had  once  been  his 
rice  pot,  and  upon  the  shapeless  lumps  of  brass 
deeply  embedded  in  the  soil,  which  had  so  lately 
contained  the  ingredients  for  liis  quids. 

The  two  Sakai,  gibbering  in  the  upper  branches, 
shook  the  boughs  on  which  they  were  seated,  ^vith 
the  agony  of  the  terror  which  still  held  them. 

"The  Old  Father  was  filled  with  wrath,"  whis- 
pered the  elder  of  the  two.  He  was  anxious  to 
si)eak  of  the  brute  that  had  assailed  them  with  the 
greatest  respect,  and  above  all  things  to  avoid  proper 
names.  Both  he  and  his  fellow  were  convinced  that 
the  rogue  was  an  incarnation  of  their  former  friend 
and  tribesman  Pa'  Patin — -the  Spike  Fish — who  had 
come  by  his  death  on  the  salt  lick  two  years  earlier; 
but  they  were  much  too  prudent  to  express  tliis 
oi>inion  openly,  or  at  such  a  time.  In  life.  Pa'  P^itin 
had  been  a  mild  enough  individual,  but  he  seemed 
to  have  developed  a  temper  during  his  sojourn  in 
the  land  of  shades,  and  the  two  Sakai  were  not  going 
to  outrage  his  feelings  by  making  any  direct  allusion 
to  him. 

Presenth',   Pandak  Aris   climljed   down   from   his 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  T£L0M   91 

tree,  and  began  somewhat  ruefully  to  gather  to- 
gether his  damaged  property.  He  cried  to  the  two 
Sakai  to  come  down  and  aid  him,  but  they  sat  shud- 
dering in  their  lofty  perches  and  declined  to  move. 
Pandak  Aris  quickly  lost  his  temper. 

"Come  down!"  he  yelled  at  them.  "Descend 
out  of  the  branches,  ye  children  of  sin!  May  you 
die  violent  deaths!  Come  down!  Are  your  ears 
deaf  that  you  obey  me  not.^^" 

But  the  terrified  Sakai  would  not  budge,  and 
maintained  an  obstinate  silence. 

Pandak  Aris,  capering  in  his  impotent  rage,  miscalled 
them  with  all  that  amplitude  of  vocabulary  which, 
upon  occasion,  the  Malays  know  how  to  use.  He 
threatened  them  with  all  manner  of  grievous  punish- 
ments; he  tried  to  bribe  the  trembling  wretches  "with 
promises  of  food  and  tobacco;  he  flung  stones  and 
sticks  at  them,  which  they  evaded  without  the  least 
difficulty;  at  last  he  even  condescended  to  entreat 
them  to  come  down.  But  all  was  in  vain.  The 
Sakai  are  still,  to  some  extent,  arboureal  in  their 
habits,  and  when  once  fear  has  driven  them  to  seek 
safety  in  the  trees,  some  time  must  elapse  before 
sufficient  confidence  is  restored  to  them  to  embolden 
them  again  to  face  the  dangers  of  life  upon  the 
ground.  Pandak  Aris  would  willingly  have  wrung 
their  necks,  could  he  but  have  got  within  reach 
of  them;  but  he  knew  the  hopelessness  of  attempt- 
ing to  chase  these  creatures  through  the  branches, 
for  Sakai  can  move  among  the  treetops  with  the 
instinctive  dexterity  of  monkeys.     At  length,  there- 


92   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TKLOM 

fore,  very  much  out  of  temper,  he  abandoned  the 
idea  of  persuading  his  companions  to  rejoin  him  that 
night. 

Meanwhile,  much  time  had  been  wasted,  and 
already  the  waters  of  the  Misong  were  running  red 
beneath  the  ruddy  glow  overhead  that  marked  the 
setting  of  the  sun.  The  tocsin  of  the  insect  world 
was  ringing  through  the  forest,  and  the  birds'  chorus 
was  slowly  dying  into  silence.  High  above  the  top- 
most branches  of  the  trees,  the  moon,  not  yet  at 
the  full,  was  showing  pale  and  faint,  though  each 
moment  the  power  of  its  gentle  light  was  gaining 
strength.  Pandak  Aris  glanced  at  these  things,  and 
drew  from  them  a  number  of  conclusions.  It  was 
too  late  for  him  to  push  on  to  the  moutli  of  the 
Misong,  near  which  his  camp  had  been  pitched 
that  morning;  for  no  Malay  willingly  threads  the 
jungle  unaccompanied,  and  least  of  all  after  darkness 
has  fallen.  It  was  too  late,  also,  to  erect  a  camp  on 
the  salt  Uck,  for  after  the  shock  which  his  nerves 
had  sustained  from  the  attack  of  the  rogue  elephant, 
he  had  no  fancy  for  penetrating  into  the  forest  to 
cut  the  materials  for  a  hut,  unless  at  least  one  of  the 
Sakai  would  go  with  him.  Therefore,  he  decided  to 
chmp  on  the  bare  earth  at  the  foot  of  the  monster 
tree  near  which  he  stood.  It  would  be  fairly  light, 
he  told  himself,  until  some  three  hours  before  the 
dawn,  and  though  his  rice  pot  had  been  smashed, 
and  lie  would  have  to  go  supperless  to  bed,  he  would 
light  a  big  fire  and  sleep  beside  its  protecting  blaze. 
But  here  an  unexpected  difficulty  presented  itself. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM       93 

The  flint  and  steel,  with  which  the  fire,  was  to  be 
kindled,  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  With  the  rest 
of  Pandak  Aris's  gear,  it  had  been  tossed  into  the 
undergrowth  by  the  rogue  elephant,  and  the  fading 
light  refused  to  reveal  where  it  had  fallen.  Pandak 
Aris  searched  with  increasing  anxiety  and  a  feverish 
diligence  for  half  an  hour,  but  without  result,  and 
at  the  end  of  that  time  the  darkness  forced  him  to 
abandon  all  hope  of  finding  it.  If  he  could  have 
lighted  upon  a  seasoned  piece  of  rattan,  a  really 
dry  log,  and  a  tough  stick,  he  could  have  ignited  a 
fire  by  friction ;  but  rattan  grows  green  in  the  jungle, 
and  no  suitable  log  or  piece  of  stick  were  at  the 
moment  available. 

Pandak  Aris  lay  down  upon  the  warm  earth  be- 
tween the  buttress  roots  of  the  big  tree,  and  swore 
softly,  but  with  fluency,  under  his  breath.  He 
cursed  the  Sakai,  the  mothers  that  bore  them,  and 
all  their  male  and  female  relatives  to  the  fifth  and 
sixth  generation,  and  said  many  biting  things  of 
fate  and  destiny.  Then  he  rolled  over  on  his  side,, 
and  fell  asleep.  The  roots  of  the  tree,  between 
which  he  lay,  had  their  junction  with  the  trunk  at  a 
height  of  some  two  or  three  feet  above  the  surface 
of  the  ground.  Thence  they  sloped  downward,  at 
a  sharp  angle,  and  meandered  away  through  the 
grass  and  the  underwood,  in  all  manner  of  knotty 
curves  and  imdiilations.  Pandak  Aris,  occupying 
the  space  between  two  of  these  roots,  was  protected 
by  a  low  wall  of  very  tough  wood  on  either  side  of 
him,  extending  from  his  head  to  his  hips,  just  beyond 


94   IN  THE  VALLEY  OE  THE  TELOM 

the  reach  of  his  fingertips  as  he  lay,  but  gradually 
dwindling  away  to  nothing. 

The  placid  light  of  the  moon  flooded  the  jungle 
with  its  soft  radiance,  lending  a  ghostly  and  mys- 
terious air  to  this  little  clearing  in  the  forest,  and 
peophng  it  with  fantastic  shadows.  It  shone  upon 
the  face  of  the  sleeping  IVIalay,  and  upon  the  two 
Sakai  hunched  up,  with  their  heads  between  their 
knees,  snoring  uneasily  in  the  treetops.  The  ants 
ran  hither  and  thither  over  Pandak  Aris's  body,  and 
the  jungle  hummed  with  the  myriad  night  noises  of 
nocturnal  birds  and  insects,  but  the  rhythm  of  this 
gentle  murmur  did  not  disturb  the  sleepers. 

Suddenly  the  two  Sakai  awoke  with  a  start.  They 
^aid  never  a  word,  but  they  listened  intently.  Very 
far  away,  across  the  Misong,  a  dry  branch  had 
snapped,  with  a  faint  but  crisp  sound.  The  ear  of  an 
European  would  hardly  have  detected  the  noise, 
even  if  its  owner  had  been  listening  for  it,  but  it 
had  sufficed  to  arouse  the  sleeping  Sakai  into  an  alert 
wakefulness.  It  was  repeated  again  and  again. 
Now  several  twigs  and  branches  seemed  to  snap 
simultaneously;  now  there  came  a  swishing  soimd,  as 
of  green  leaves  ripped  from  their  boughs  by  a  giant's 
hand;  and  then  for  a  space  silence  would  ensue. 
These  sounds  grew  gradually  louder  and  more  dis- 
tinct, and  for  nearly  an  hour  the  Sakai  sat  listening 
to  them  while  Pandak  Aris  still  slept.  At  the  end 
of  tliat  time  a  soft  squelching  noise  was  suddenly 
Iieard,  followed  presently  by  a  j)op,  like  the  drawing 
of  a  big  cork;  «nd  this  was  repeated  nuuiy  times,  and 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM   95 

was  succeeded  by  the  splashing  of  water  sluiced  over 
hot,  rough  hides.  Even  a  white  man  would  at  once 
have  interpreted  the  meaning  of  this;  but  again  the 
Sakai  would  have  outdistanced  him,  for  their  ears 
had  told  them,  not  only  that  a  herd  of  elephants, 
which  had  been  browsing  through  the  forest,  had 
come  down  to  water  in  the  Misong,  but  also  the 
number  of  the  beasts,  and  that  one  of  them  was  a 
calf  of  tender  age. 

The  wind  was  blowing  from  the  jungle  across  the 
river  to  the  trees  where  the  men  were  camped,  so  the 
elephants  took  their  bath  with  much  leisure,  undis- 
turbed by  their  proximity,  splashing  and  wallowing 
mightily  in  the  shallows  and  in  such  pools  as  they 
could  find.  Then  they  floundered  singly  ashore,  and 
later  began  working  slowly  round,  under  cover  of  the 
jungle,  so  as  to  get  below  the  wind  before  venturing 
out  upon  the  open  space  of  the  salt  lick.  The 
Sakai,  high  up  in  the  trees,  could  watch  the  surging 
of  the  underwood,  as  the  great  beasts  rolled  through 
it,  but  the  footfall  of  the  elephants  made  no  neise, 
and  except  when  one  or  another  of  the  animals 
cracked  a  bough  or  stripped  it  of  its  leaves,  the 
progress  of  the  herd  was  wonderfully  unmarked 
by  sound.  The  wind  of  the  Sakai  passed  over  their 
heads,  though  from  time  to  time  they  held  their 
moistened  trunk  tips  aloft,  searching  the  air  with 
them,  but  they  presently  scented  Pandak  Aris.  In- 
stantly a  perfect  tumult  of  trumpetings  and  squeal- 
ings  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  wild  stampede.     Pandak  Aris,  awake  at 


96   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  T£L0M 

last,  listened  to  the  crashing  and  tearing  noise  caused 
by  the  herd  flinging  itself  through  the  underwood, 
and  fancied  that  they  were  charging  down  upon  him" 
full  tilt.  It  is  often  well-nigh  impossible  in  the 
jungle  to  tell  the  direction  in  which  big  game  are 
moving  when  they  are  on  the  run,  but  this  time  the 
elephants  had  been  seized  with  panic  and  were  in 
desperate  flight. 

Over  and  over  again,  while  the  light  of  the  moon 
still  held,  game  of  all  kinds  made  its  way  to  a  point 
below  the  wind,  whence  to  approach  the  salt  lick, 
and  each  time  the  tainted  wind  told  them  that  men 
were  in  possession.  The  savage  blowing  and  snort- 
ing of  the  wild  kine,  the  grunting  protests  of  a  herd 
of  swine,  the  abrupt,  startled  bark  of  a  stag,  and 
many  other  jungle  sounds  all  were  heard  in  turn,  and 
each  was  succeeded  by  the  snapping  of  dry  twigs  or 
the  crashing  of  rent  underwood,  which  told  of  a 
hasty  retreat. 

At  first  Pandak  Aris  sought  safety  in  the  branches 
of  the  tree,  but  very  soon  the  agony  of  discomfort 
caused  by  his  uneasy  seat  and  by  the  red  ants  which 
swarmed  over  him,  biting  like  dogs,  drove  him  once 
more  to  brave  the  perils  of  the  earth. 

At  about  2:30  a.  m.  the  moon  sank  to  rest,  and  a 
black  darkness,  such  as  is  only  to  be  found  at  night- 
time in  a  ]\Ialayan  forest,  shut  down  upon  the  land. 
Though  Pandak  Aris  squatted  or  lay  at  the  edge  of 
the  open,  he  could  not  distinguish  the  branches 
against  tlie  sky,  nor  see  his  own  hand,  when  he 
waggled    it    Ix'fore   his   eyes;   and    the   impenetrable 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM        97 

gloom  that  enveloped  him  wrought  his  already  over- 
strained nerves  to  a  pitch  of  agonized  intensity. 

And  now  a  fresh  horror  was  lent  to  his  situation, 
for  the  larger  game  no  longer  troubled  themselves  to 
approach  the  salt  lick  from  below  the  wind.  From 
time  to  time  Pandak  Aris  could  hear  some  unknown 
beast  floimdering  through  the  waters  of  the  Misong, 
or  treading  softly  upon  the  kneaded  earth  within  a 
few  feet  of  him.  He  was  devoured  by  sand-flies, 
which  he  knew  came  to  him  from  the  beasts  that  now 
were  crowding  the  salt  lick,  and  they  fastened  on  his 
bare  skin,  and  nestled  in  his  hair,  driving  him  almost 
frantic  by  the  fierce  itching  which  they  occasioned. 

Now  and  again  some  brute  would  pass  so  near  to 
him  that  Pandak  Aris  could  hear  the  crisp  sound  of 
its  grazing,  the  noise  it  made  in  licking  the  salt,  or 
tlie  rhythm  of  its  heavj'  breath.  Occasionally  oiu^ 
or  other  of  them  would  wind  him,  as  the  sudden 
striking  of  hoofs  against  the  ground,  or  an  angry 
snorting  or  blowing,  would  make  plain.  But  all 
this  time  Pandak  Aris  could  see  nothing. 

Many  times  he  clambered  into  the  tree,  but  his 
weaiy  bones  could  find  no  rest  there,  and  the  ferocity 
of  the  red  ants  quickly  drove  him  to  earth  again. 

Shortly  before  the  dawn  Pandak  Aris  was  startled 
out  of  an  uneasy,  fitful  doze  by  the  sound  of  some 
huge  animal  passing  very  close  to  him.  He  could 
hear  the  sound  of  its  movements  more  distinctly 
than  he  had  yet  heard  those  of  any  of  the  other 
beasbi  which  had  peopled  his  waking  nightmare; 
and  as  he  still  lay  listening,  there  came  suddenly  a 


08    IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

mighty  blowing,  then  a  ferocious  snort,  and  some 
monster — ^he  knew  not  what — charged  him  vic- 
iously. 

Pandak  Aris  was  lying  flat  upon  the  ground,  with 
the  sloping  buttress  roots  of  the  tree  on  each  side  of 
him,  and  the  beast  passed  over  him,  doing  him  no 
hurt,  save  that  a  portion  of  the  fleshy  part  of  his 
thigh  was  pinched  by  a  hoof  that  cut  cleanly,  for 
Pandak  Aris  could  feel  the  warm  blood  trickling  down 
his  leg.  He  was  not  conscious  of  any  pain,  however, 
and  continued  to  lie  flat  upon  the  earth,  too  terrified 
to  move,  and  almost  choked  by  the  wild  leaping  of 
his  heart. 

But  his  invisible  assailant  had  not  yet  done  with 
him.  The  reek  of  a  hot,  pungent  breath  upon  his 
face,  which  well-nigh  deprived  him  of  his  reason,  told 
him  that  some  animal  was  standing  over  him.  In- 
stinctively, he  felt  for  his  parang — the  long,  keen- 
edged  knife  from  which  the  jungle-bred  Malay  is 
never,  for  an  instant,  separated — drew  it  gently  from 
its  clumsy  wooden  scabbard  at  his  girdle,  and  grasped 
the  hilt  firmly  in  his  right  hand. 

Presently,  to  an  accompaniment  of  much  snort- 
ing and  blowing,  some  hard  object  was  insinuated 
beneath  his  body.  Pandak  x\ris  moved  quickly,  to 
avoid  this  new  horror,  and  clung  convulsively  to  the 
ground.  Again  and  again,  first  on  one  side  and  then 
on  the  other,  this  hard,  prodding  substance  sought  to 
force  itself  below  him.  It  bruised  him  terriblj',  driv- 
ing the  wind  from  his  lungs,  sending  dull  pangs 
through  his  whole  body  at  each  fresh  prod,  and  leav- 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TfiLOM        99 

ing  him  faint  and  gasping.  It  seemed  to  him  that  it 
was  pounding  him  into  a  jelly. 

How  long  this  ordeal  lasted  Pandak  Aris  never 
knew.  For  an  eternity,  it  seemed  to  him,  every 
energy  of  his  mind  and  body  was  concentrated  in  the 
effort  to  prevent  his  enemy  from  securing  a  hold  on 
him,  and  he  was  dimly  aware  that  he  was  partially 
protected,  and  that  his  assailant  was  greatly  ham- 
l)ered  by  the  buttress  roots  by  which  his  body  was 
flanked.  It  was  a  desperate  struggle,  and  Pandak 
Aris  felt  as  though  it  would  never  end,  and  the 
situation  was  unchanged  when  day  began  slowly  to 
break. 

Dawn  comes  rapidly  in  Malaya  up  to  a  certain 
point,  though  the  sun  takes  time  to  arise  from  under 
its  bedclothes  of  white  mist.  One  moment  all  is 
dark  as  the  bottomless  pit;  another,  and  a  new  sense 
is  given  to  the  watcher — the  sense  of  form.  A 
minute  or  two  more,  and  the  ability  to  distinguish 
colour  comes  to  one  with  a  shock  of  surprise — a  dim 
green  manifests  itself  in  the  grass,  the  yellow  of  a 
pebble,  the  brown  of  a  faded  leaf,  the  grayness  of  a 
tree  trunk,  each  is  revealed  as  a  new  and  unexpected 
quality  in  a  familiar  object.  So  it  was  with  Pandak 
Aris.  All  in  a  moment  he  began  to  see;  and  what  he 
saw  did  not  help  to  reassure  him.  He  looked  up  at 
a  vast  and  overwhelming  bulk  standing  over  him — 
a  thing  of  heavy,  heaving  shoulders  and  ferocious, 
lowered  head,  still  seen  only  in  outline — and  knew 
liis  assailant  for  a  selddaiig,  the  wild  buffalo  of  eastern 
Asid,  which  is  the  largest  of  all  the  beasts,  save  only 


TOO      IN  1  HE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM 

the  elephant,  and  is  reputed  to  outmatch  even  him  in 
strengtli.  Then,  as  the  Hght  increased,  Pandak  Aris 
could  see  the  black  hairy  hide,  the  gray  belly,  the 
long  fringe  of  shaggy  hair  at  the  monster's  throat, 
the  smoking  nostrils,  wide  open  and  of  a  dim  red,  and 
the  cruel  little  eyes  glaring  savagely  at  him. 

Almost  before  he  knew  what  he  had  done,  Pandak 
Aris  had  grasped  his  jparang  in  both  hands,  and  with 
the  strength  of  desperation  had  drawn  its  long,  keen 
edge  across  the  brute's  throat.  A  torrent  of  blood 
gushed  into  the  man's  face,  blinding  him,  and  the 
.selddang,  snorting  loudly,  stamped  with  its  off  fore- 
foot. The  heavy  hoof  alighted  upon  Pandak  Aris's 
left  arm,  crushing  it  to  a  jelly,  but  the  wounded  limb 
telegraphed  no  signal  of  j^ain  to  the  brain,  which  was 
working  too  absorbedly  on  its  own  account  to  be  able 
to  take  heed  of  aught  else. 

Furious  with  pain  and  rage,  the  selddang  tried  again 
and  again  to  gore  the  man  with  its  horns,  but  the 
buttress  roots  baffled  its  efforts,  and  all  the  while  the 
farcing  worked  by  Pandak  xVris's  still  uninjured  hand 
sawed  relentlessly  at  the  brute'."  throat.  Very  soon 
the  bull  began  to  feel  tlie  deadly  sickness  which  comes 
before  death,  and  it  fell  heavily  to  its  knees.  It 
floundered  to  its  feet  again,  bruising  Pandak  Ari.s 
once  more  as  it  did  so.  Then  it  reeled  away,  sinking 
to  its  knees  again  and  again,  while  the  blood  pumped 
from  the  widening  gap  in  its  throat.  Presently  it 
•sjink  to  tlie  ground,  and  after  rej)eated  attempts  to 
rise,  mid  tearing  up  the  earth  in  its  death-agony, 
it  Itiv  still  forever. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  TELOM      101 

"Yonder  lies  much  meat,"  grunted  one  of  the 
Sakai  to  his  fellow.  That  was  their  only  comment 
upon  the  struggle,  the  end  of  which  they  had  wit- 
nessed. 

Now  that  danger  was  past  and  the  daylight  come 
again,  they  climbed  down  out  of  the  treetops.  They 
bent  over  the  insensible  body  of  Pandak  Aris,  and 
when  they  found  that  he  was  still  alive,  they  ban- 
daged his  wounds,  not  unskilfully,  with  strips  torn 
from  his  sarong,  and  stanched  the  bleeding  with  the 
pith  which  they  ripped  out  of  the  heart  of  a  trap 
tree.  Then  they  built  a  makeshift  raft,  and  placed 
the  wounded  man  upon  it,  together  with  as  much 
selddang  beef  as  it  would  carry.  Wading  down- 
stream, one  at  the  bow  and  one  at  the  stern  of  the 
raft,  they  reached  the  camp  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Misong,  which  they  had  quitted  the  preceding  morn- 
ing, and  there  they  lighted  a  fire  and  indulged  in  a 
surfeit  of  the  good  red  meat. 

Pandak  Aris  was  as  tough  as  are  most  jungle-bred 
Malays,  and  he  was  blessed  with  a  mighty  constitu- 
tion; wherefore,  when  he  regained  consciousness,  he 
also  feasted  upon  the  body  of  his  caiemy. 

*T  cut  his  throat,  Tuaii,"  he  said  to  me  in  after 
(lays.  'T  cut  his  throat,  and  T  mind  me  that  while 
doing  so,  I  murmured  the  word  Bishmillah — in  the 
name  of  Allah.  Therefore  it  was  lawfid  for  me  to 
eat  of  the  meat,  for  the  beast  had  been  slaughtered 
according  to  the  rites  of  the  Muhammadans." 

For  my  part,  T  was  less  surprised  at  the  ease  with 
which    he    had    salved    his    conscience    than    at    his 


102   IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  T£L0M 

ability  to  touch  meat  at  all  in  his  then  shattered 
condition.  However,  the  Sakai  got  him  back  to  his 
house,  rafting  him  carefully  downstream,  and  Minah, 
his  wife,  who  was  a  knowledgeable  soul,  tended  him 
devotedly,  till  nought  save  scars  and  a  useless  left  arm 
remained  to  tell  of  his  encounter  with  the  selddang. 

This  was  the  one  notable  incident  that  had  served 
to  break  the  dead  monotony  of  Pandak  Aris's  many 
days  of  life ;  but  perhaps  he  was  right  in  thinking  that 
that  single  night  on  the  salt  lick  of  Misong  had  held 
enough  excitement  and  adventiu*e  to  last  any  reason- 
able man  for  a  lifetime. 


THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

IF  YOU  go  up  the  Paliang  River  for  a  hundred 
and  eighty  miles,  you  come  to  a  spot  where  the 
stream  divides  itself  into  two  main  branches, 
and  where  the  name  "Pahang"  dies  an  ignominious 
death  in  a  small  ditch  which  debouches  at  their  point 
of  junction.  The  river  on  your  left  is  the  Jelai,  and 
that  on  your  right  is  the  Tembeling.  If  you  go  up 
the  latter,  you  presently  come  to  big  flights  of  rapids, 
a  few  gamhir  plantations,  and  a  great  many  of  the 
very  best  ruffians  in  the  ]Malay  Peninsula,  most  of 
whom,  a  quarter  of  a  centiuy  ago,  were  rather  par- 
ticular friendij  of  my  own.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
follow  the  Jelai  up  its  course,  past  Kuala  Lii)is,  where 
the  river  of  that  name  falls  into  it  on  its  right  bank, 
and  on  and  on  and  on,  you  come  at  last  to  the  wild 
Sakai  country  where,  in  my  time,  the  Malayan 
langiuige  was  still  unknown,  and  where  the  horizon 
of  the  aboriginal  tribes  was  formed  by  the  impene- 
trable jungle  shutting  down  on  the  far  side  of  a  slen- 
der stream,  and  was  further  narrowed  by  the  Hniila- 
tions  of  intellects  that  were  unable  to  conceiNe  r.u 
arithmetical  idea  higher  than  the  numeral  three. 
Before  you  run  your  nose  into  these  uncleanly  places, 
however,  you  pass  through  a  district  spattered  with 
Malay  habitations;  and  if  you  turn  off  up  the  Telaug 

lOJ 


104  THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

River,  you  find  a  little  open  country  and  some  pros- 
perous looking  villages. 

One  day  in  July,  1893,  a  feast  in  honour  of  a  wed- 
ding was  being  celebrated  in  a  village  situated  in 
this  valley.  The  scene  was  typical.  The  head  and 
skin  of  a  water  buffalo — a  black  one,  of  course,  for 
Malays  will  not  eat  the  meat  of  one  of  the  mottled, 
pink  brutes,  which  are  the  alternative  breed — and 
the  fly -infested  pools  of  blood  which  marked  the  spot 
where  it  had  been  slaughtered  and  where  its  carcase 
liad  been  dismembered,  were  prominent  features  in 
the  foreground,  lying  displayed  in  a  highly  unap- 
l>etizing  manner  in  a  little  open  space  at  the  side 
of  one  of  the  houses.  In  one  part  of  the  village  two 
men  were  posturing  in  one  of  the  more  or  less  aimless 
sword  dances  which  are  so  dear  to  all  Malays,  in 
which  the  performers  move  with  incredible  slowness, 
ward  off  the  imaginary  blows  struck  at  them  by 
hypothetical  adversaries,  and  approach  one  another 
only  at  infrequent  intervals  and  then  with  the  most 
meagre  results.  A  ring  of  spectators  squatted  on  the 
grass  around  them,  subjecting  their  movements  to 
the  keenest  criticism,  and  taking  an  apparently 
inexhaustiole  interest  in  their  unexciting  disj)hiy. 
Drums  and  gongs,  meanwhile,  beat  a  rhythmical 
time,  that  makes  the  heaviest  heels  itch  to  move  more 
(juiekly;  and  now  and  again  the  rrowd  of  onlookers 
whooi)ed  and  yelled  in  shrill,  far-sounding  chorus. 
This  clioric  shout — the  .soralc,  as  the  ^lalays  call  it — 
is  raised  by  tluMu  when  engaged  ("itlier  in  sport  or  in 
battle;  and  ])arlly  from  association,  partly  by  reason 


THE  INNER  APARTMENT  105 

of  the  shrill  lilt  of  it,  I,  for  one,  can  never  hear  it 
without  a  thrill.  The  Malays  are  very  sensitive 
to  its  infection  of  sympathetic  excitement,  and  the 
sound  of  it  speedily  awakes  in  them  a  sort  of  frenzy 
of  enthusiasm. 

All  tlie  men  present  were  dressed  in  many -coloured 
silks  and  tartans,  and  were  armed  with  daggers,  as 
befits  warriors;  but  if  you  chanced  to  possess  an  eye 
for  such  details,  you  would  have  noticed  that  gar- 
ments and  weapons  alike  were  worn  in  a  fashion 
calculated  to  excite  the  ridicule  of  a  down-country 
Malay.  The  distinction  between  the  town  and 
country  mouse  is  as  marked  in  the  Malay  Peninsula 
as  elsewhere,  and  it  is  rarely  that  the  man  from  the 
vlii — the  upper  reaches — can  master  all  the  intrica- 
cies of  language,  habit,  and  custom  which  lend  their 
racket  of  superiority  to  the  men  of  the  more  j)olite 
districts. 

In  a  bdlai — a  large  building  raised  on  piles,  and 
l^rotected  by  a  high-pitched  thatch  roof,  but  fur- 
nished with  low  half  walls  only,  an  erection  specially 
constructed  for  the  purposes  of  the  feast — a  number 
of  priests  and  pilgrims  and  persons  of  pious  reputa- 
tion were  seated,  gravely  intoning  the  Kuran,  but 
pausing  to  chew  betel  quids  and  to  gossip  scanda- 
lously at  frequent  intervals.  Prominent  among  them 
were  many  white-capped  lehai — that  class  of  ficti- 
tious religious  mendicants  whose  members  are  usu- 
ally among  the  most  well-to-do  men  of  the  village, 
but  who  accept  as  their  right,  and  without  shame, 
the  charitable  doles  of  the  faithful  in  exchange  for 


106  THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

the  prayers  which  they  are  ready  on  all  occasions 
to  recite.  The  wag  of  the  district  was  also  present 
among  them,  for  he  is  an  inevitable  feature  of  most 
Malayan  gatherings,  and  is  generally  one  of  the  local 
holy  men.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  understand  how 
he  acquired  his  reputation  for  humour,  but  once 
gained  it  has  stood  steady  as  a  rock.  His  mere 
presence  is  held  to  be  provocative  of  laughter,  and  as 
often  as  he  opens  his  mouth  the  obsequious  guffaM' 
goes  up,  no  matter  what  the  words  that  issue  from 
his  lips.  Most  of  his  hearers,  on  the  present  occasion, 
had  listened  to  his  threadbare  old  jests  any  time 
these  twenty  years  past,  but  the  applause  whic]\ 
greeted  them,  as  each  in  turn  was  trotted  out,  was 
none  the  less  hearty  or  genuine  on  that  account. 
Among  Malays  novelty  and  surprise  are  not  hold  to 
be  essential  elements  of  luimour.  They  will  ask  for 
the  same  story,  or  laboriously  angle  for  the  same 
witticism,  time  after  time;  prefer  that  it  should  be 
told  in  the  same  way,  and  expressed  as  nearly  as 
possible  in  the  same  words  at  each  repetition;  and 
they  will  invariably  laugh  with  equal  zest  and  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  place,  in  spite  of  the  hoary  antiquity 
of  the  thing,  after  the  manner  of  a  child.  Similarly, 
it  is  this  tolerance  of,  nay,  delight  in,  reiteration  that 
impels  a  Malayan  raja,  when  civilized,  to  decorat(^ 
his  sitting-room  walls  with  half  a  dozen  replicas  of 
the  same  imattractive  photograph. 

Meanwhile  the  womenfolk  had  come  from  far  and 
near  to  help  in  the  preparation  of  the  feast,  and  the 
men  of  the  family  having  previously  done  the  heavy 


THE  INNER  APARTMENT  107 

work  of  carrying  the  water,  hewing  the  firewood, 
jointing  the  meat,  and  grinding  the  curry  stuff,  the 
female  population  was  busily  engaged  in  the  back 
premises  of  the  house  cooking  as  only  Malay  women 
can  cook,  keeping  up  all  the  time  a  constant  shrill 
babbling,  varied  by  an  occasional  scream  of  direction 
from  some  experienced  hag.  The  younger  and  pret- 
tier girls  had  carried  their  work  to  the  doorways,  pre- 
tending that  more  light  was  necessary  than  could  be 
found  in  the  dark  interior  of  the  house,  and  seated 
there  with  a  mighty  affectation  of  modesty,  they  were 
engaging  at  long  range  in  a  spirited  interchange  of 
"eyeplay" — as  the  Malays  call  it — with  the  young- 
sters of  the  village.  Much  havoc,  no  doubt,  was  thus 
wrought  in  susceptible  male  hearts,  but  most  of  the 
sufferers  knew  that  maidens  and  matrons  alike  would 
be  prei^ared,  as  occasion  offered,  to  heal  with  a  limit- 
less generosity  the  wounds  they  so  wantonly  inflicted. 
'J'liat  is  one  of  the  things  that  make  life  so  blithe  a 
business  for  the  average  young  ]\Ialay.  He  is  always 
in  love  with  some  woman  or  another,  and  knows  that 
its  consummation  is  merely  a  question  of  opportunity 
in  the  provision  of  which  he  shows  equal  energy  and 
ingenuity. 

The  bride,  of  course,  having  been  dressed  in  smart 
new  silks  of  delicious  tints,  and  loaded  with  gold 
ornaments,  borrowed  for  the  occasion  from  their 
possessors  from  many  miles  around,  was  left  in 
solitude,  sealed  on  the  (jeta — or  raised  sleeping 
platform — ^in  the  dimly  lighted  inner  apartment, 
there  to  await  the  ordeal  known  to  Malav  crueltv  as 


108  THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

sanding.  The  ceremony  that  bears  this  name  is 
one  at  which  the  bride  and  bridegroom  are  brought 
together  for  the  first  time.  They  are  officially  sup- 
posed never  to  have  seen  one  another  before,  though 
few  self-respecting  Malays  allow  their  fiancees  to  be 
finally  selected  for  them  until  they  have  had  more 
than  one  good  look  at  them.  To  effect  this,  a  Malay, 
accompanied  usually  by  one  or  two  trusty  friends, 
creeps  one  evening  under  the  raised  floor  of  the  lady's 
house,  and  peeps  at  her  through  the  bamboo  laths  or 
through  the  chinks  of  the  wattled  walls.  At  the 
sanding,  however,  stealth  is  no  longer  necessary. 
The  bride  and  bridegroom  are  led  forth  by  their 
respective  relatives,  and  are  placed  side  by  side  upon 
the  dais  prepared  for  the  purpose,  where  they  remain 
seated  for  hours,  while  the  assembled  male  guests 
eat  a  hearty  meal,  and  thereafter  chant  interminable 
verses  from  the  Kuran.  During  the  whole  of  this 
time  they  must  sit  motionless,  no  matter  how  pain- 
fully their  cramped  legs  may  ache  and  throb,  and 
their  eyes  must  be  downcast  and  fixed  upon  their 
hands  which,  scarlet  with  henna,  lie  motionless  one 
on  each  knee.  Malays  who  have  endured  the  sand- 
ing assure  me  that  the  experience  is  trying  in  th(> 
extreme,  and  that  the  publicity  of  it  is  highly  em- 
barrassing, the  more  so  since  it  is  a  point  of  honour 
for  the  man  to  try  to  catch  an  occasional  glim])se 
of  his  bride  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eyes,  without 
turning  liis  head  a  hair's  breadth,  and  without  being 
detected  by  the  onlookers  in  the  a[)palling  solecism 
of  moving  so  nuich  as  an  eyelash. 


THE  INNER  APARTMENT  lOU 

The  bridegroom  is  conducted  to  the  house  of  his 
fiancee  there  to  sit  in  state,  by  a  band  of  his  male 
relations  and  friends,  some  of  whom  sing  shrill  verses 
from  the  Kuran,  while  others  rush  madly  ahead, 
charging,  retreating,  capering,  dancing,  yelling,  and 
liooting,  brandishing  naked  weapons,  and  engaging 
in  a  highly  realistic  sham-fight  with  the  bride's 
relatives  and  their  friends,  who  rush  out  of  her  com- 
poimd  to  meet  them,  fling  themselves  into  the  heart 
of  the  excited  mob,  and  do  not  suffer  themselves  to 
be  routed  until  they  have  made  a  fine  show  of  resis- 
tance. 

Traditional  customs,  such  as  this,  are  among  the 
most  illuminating  of  archaeological  relics.  They  are 
perpetuated  to-day  for  old  sake's  sake,  laughingly, 
as  a  concession  to  the  conventions,  by  people  who 
never  stay  to  question  their  origin,  or  to  spare  a 
i  liought  to  the  forgotten  social  conditions  or  religious 
observances  to  the  nature  of  which  they  testify.  Yet 
each  one  of  them  is  a  fragmentary  survival  that 
whispers,  to  those  who  care  to  listen,  of  strange  and 
ancient  things.  Thus  the  right  claimed  in  England 
to  kiss  any  girl  who  at  Christmas  is  caught  beneath 
tlie  mistletoe,  is  the  innocent  shadow  thrown  across 
the  present  by  the  wild,  indiscriminate  orgies  which 
were  wont  to  be  held  under  the  oak  trees  in  Druidical 
Britain,  in  celebration  of  the  winter  solstice.  The 
practice  of  "blooding"  a  boy  who,  for  the  first  time, 
is  in  at  the  death  of  a  fox,  points  to  the  fact  that  of 
old,  in  merry  England,  the  anointing  of  the  young 
and  untried  warriors  witli  the  })lo()d  of  the  slain  was  a 


110  THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

part  of  the  established  military  ritual.  Similarly, 
the  Malayan  custom  which  compels  a  youth,  who  has 
killed  his  first  man,  to  lick  the  blood  from  his  kris 
blade,  or  it  may  be  even  to  swallow  a  tiny  piece  of 
flesh  cut  from  the  neighbourhood  of  his  victim's 
heart,  indicates  that  cannibalism  was  once  an  ap- 
proved feature  of  war  as  waged  by  the  Malays. 
In  the  same  way,  the  sham  fight  which,  among  these 
people,  marks  the  arrival  of  a  bridegroom,  bears  wit- 
ness to  a  time  when  marriage  by  capture  was  at  once 
a  stern  reality,  and  the  only  honourable  way  in 
which  a  bride  might  be  won.  The  antagonism  of  the 
male  members  of  a  family  to  the  man  who  desires 
to  oossess  himself  "of  their  daughter  or  sister  is  a 
strong,  natural  instinct,  and  it  is  easy  to  understand 
that,  long  after  forcible  abduction  had  ceased  to  be  a 
reality,  self-respect  demanded  that  some  show  of 
resistance  should  be  offered  before  the  detested  in- 
truder was  suffered  to  lead  his  wife  away.  In  some 
of  the  wilder  and  more  remote  parts  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula  the  aboriginal  Sakai  still  place  a  girl  on 
an  ant-hill,  and  ring  her  about  by  a  mob  of  her  male 
relations,  who  do  not  allow  her  suitor  to  approach  her 
until  his  head  has  been  broken  in  several  places. 
Who  can  doubt  that  the  adoption  of  a  similar  practice 
in  England  would  find  much  favour  with  many  school- 
boy brothers,  if  it  could  be  made  a  customary  feature 
of  their  sisters'  marriage  ceremonies.'* 

The  bride,  as  has  been  said,  had  been  left  in  the 
inner  apartment,  there  to  await  her  call  to  the  dais; 
and  the  preparations  were  in  Full  swing — the  men 


THE  INNER  APARTMENT  111 

and  women  enjoying  themselves  each  after  their 
own  fashion,  the  former  idhng  while  the  latter  worked 
— when  suddenly  a  dull  thud,  as  of  some  falling  body, 
was  heard  within  the  house.  The  women  rushed  in 
to  enquire  its  cause,  and  found  the  little  bride  lying 
on  the  floor  with  a  ghastly  gash  in  her  throat,  a  small 
clasp-knife  on  the  mat  by  her  side,  and  all  her  pretty 
garments  drenched  in  her  own  blood.  They  lifted 
her  up,  and  strove  to  stanch  the  bleeding;  and  as 
they  fought  to  stay  the  life  that  was  ebbing  from 
her,  the  drone  of  the  priests  and  the  beat  of  the  drums 
came  to  their  ears  from  the  men  who  were  making 
merry  without.  Then  suddenly  the  news  of  what 
had  occurred  reached  the  assembled  guests,  and  the 
music  died  away  and  was  replaced  by  a  babble  of  ex- 
cited voices. 

The  father  of  the  girl  hurried  in,  thrusting  his  way 
through  the  curious  crowds  which  already  blocked 
the  narrow  doorways,  and  holding  his  daughter  in 
his  arms,  he  entreated  her  to  tell  him  who  had  done 
this  thing. 

''It  is  mine  own  handiwork,"  she  said. 

'"But  wherefore,  child  of  mine,"  cried  her  mother, 
'"but  wherefore  do  you  desire  to  kill  yourself.'*" 

"I  gazed  upon  my  likeness  in  the  mirror,"  the  girl 
sobbed  out,  speaking  painfully  and  with  difficulty, 
"and  looking,  I  beheld  that  I  was  very  hideous,  so 
that  it  was  not  fitting  that  I  should  any  more  live. 
Therefore  I  did  it." 

And  until  she  died,  about  an  hour  later,  this  was 
the  only  explanation  that  she  would  give. 


112  THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

The  matter  was  related  to  me  by  the  great  up- 
country  chief,  the  Dato'  Maharaja  Perba  of  Jelai, 
who  said  that  he  had  never  heard  of  any  parallel  case. 
I  warned  him  solemnly  not  to  let  the  thing  become  a 
precedent;  for  there  are  many  ill-favoured  women  in 
his  district,  and  if  they  had  all  followed  the  girl's 
example,  the  population  would  have  suffered  con- 
siderable depletion.  Later,  however,  when  I  learned 
the  real  reasons  which  had  led  to  the  suicide,  I  was 
sorry  that  I  had  ever  jested  about  it,  for  the  girl's 
was  a  sad  little  story. 

Some  months  earlier  a  Pekan  Malay  had  come  up 
the  Jelai  on  a  trading  expedition,  and  had  cast  his 
eyes  upon  the  girl.  To  her  he  was  all  that  the  people 
of  the  surrounding  villages  were  not.  He  walked 
with  a  swagger,  wore  his  weapons  and  his  clothes 
with  an  air  that  none  save  a  Malay  who  has  been 
bred  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  rajas  court  knows 
how  to  assume,  and  was  full  of  brave  tales,  to  which 
tlie  elders  of  the  village  could  only  listen  with  wonder 
and  respect.  Just  as  Lancelot  enthralled  Elaine,  so 
did  this  man — a  figure  no  less  wonderful  and  splen- 
did to  this  poor  little  upcountry  maid—  come  into 
lier  life,  revolutionizing  her  ideas  and  her  ideals,  and 
filling  her  with  hoi)es  and  with  desires  of  which 
hitherto  she  had  never  dreamed.  Against  so  prac- 
tised and  experienced  a  wooer  what  could  her  sim})le 
arts  avail. ^  Snatching  at  a  moment's  happiness  and 
reckless  of  the  future,  she  gave  herself  to  him,  hoping, 
thereby,  it  may  be,  to  hold  him  in  silken  bonds 
through  which  he  might  not  break;  l>ut  what  was 


THE  INNER  APARTMENT  113 

all  her  life  to  her  was  to  him  no  more  than  a  passing 
incident.  One  day  she  learned  that  he  had  returned 
downstream.  The  idea  of  following  him  probably 
never  even  occurred  to  her,  for  Malayan  women  have 
been  robbed  by  circumstance  of  any  great  power  of 
initiative;  but,  like  others  before  her,  she  thought  that 
the  sun  had  fallen  from  heaven  because  her  rush-light 
had  gone  out. 

Her  parents,  who  knew  nothing  of  this  intrigue, 
calmly  set  about  making  the  arrangements  for  her 
marriage — a  matter  concerning  which  she,  of  course, 
would  be  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  be  consulted. 
She  must  have  watched  these  preparations  with 
speechless  agony,  knowing  that  the  day  fixed  for  her 
wedding  must  be  that  upon  which  her  life  would 
end;  for  she  had  resolved  to  die  faithful  to  her  false 
lover,  though  it  was  not  until  the  very  last  that  she 
summoned  up  sufficient  courage  to  kill  herself.  That 
she  ever  brought  herself  to  the  pitch  of  committing 
suicide  is  very  marvellous,  for  that  act  is  not  only 
opj)osed  to  all  natural  instincts,  but  is  specially  re- 
pugnant to  the  spirit  of  her  race.  The  male  Malay, 
driven  to  desperation,  runs  amok;  the  Malay  woman 
endures  and  submits.  But  this  poor  child  of  foiu'- 
teen,  who  so  early  had  learned  the  raptures  and  the 
tragedies  of  a  great  love,  nnist  have  been  possessed 
of  extraordinary  force  of  character.  Secretly  and 
in  silence  she  resolved;  fearlessly  she  carried  her 
resolve  into  execution;  and  dying  concealed  the  love 
affair  whicli  hud  wrought  hei-  undoing,  and  the  tad 
of  her  approaching  maternity.     And  perhaj)s  there 


114  THE  INNER  APARTMENT 

lurked  some  elements  of  truth  in  the  only  explanation 
which  she  gave  with  her  dying  breath.  She  had 
looked  into  the  mirror  and  it  had  condemned  her,  for 
though  she  had  won  love,  her  love  had  abandoned 
her. 


THE  GHOUL 

WE  HAD  been  sitting  late  upon  the  veranda  of 
my  bungalow  at  Kuala  Lipis,  which,  from 
the  top  of  a  low  hill  covered  with  coarse 
grass,  overlooked  the  long,  narrow  reach  formed  by 
the  combined  waters  of  the  Lipis  and  the  Jelai. 
The  moon  had  risen  some  hours  earlier,  and  the  river 
ran  white  between  the  black  masses  of  forest,  which 
seemed  to  shut  it  in  on  all  sides,  giving  to  it  the 
appearance  of  an  isolated  tarn.  The  roughly  cleared 
compound,  with  the  tennis  ground  which  had  never 
got  beyond  the  stage  of  being  dug  over  and  weeded, 
and  the  rank  growi:hs  beyond  the  bamboo  fence, 
were  flooded  by  the  soft  light,  every  tattered  detail 
of  their  ugliness  standing  revealed  as  relentlessly  as 
though  it  were  noon.  The  night  was  very  still,  but 
the  heavy,  scented  air  was  cool  after  the  fierce  heat 
of  the  day. 

I  had  been  holding  forth  to  the  handful  of  men  who 
had  been  dining  with  me  on  the  subject  of  ^lalay 
superstitions,  while  they  manfully  stifled  their  yawns. 
When  a  man  has  a  working  knowledge  of  anything 
which  is  not  commonly  known  to  his  neighbours,  he  is 
apt  to  presuppose  their  interest  in  it  when  a  chance 
to  descant  upon  it  occurs,  and  in  those  days  it  was 
only  at  long  intervals  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of 

115 


110  THE  GIIOTTL 

forgathering  with  other  white  men.  Therefore,  1 
had  made  the  most  of  it,  and  looking  back,  I  fear  that 
I  had  occupied  the  rostrum  during  the  greater  part 
of  that  evening.  I  had  told  my  audience  of  the  'phi- 
anggal — the  "Undone  One" — that  horrible  wraith 
of  a  woman  who  has  died  in  childbirth,  who  comes 
to  torment  and  prey  upon  small  children  in  the  guise 
of  a  ghastly  face  and  bust,  with  a  comet's  tail  of 
blood-stained  entrails  flying  in  her  wake;  of  the 
mdii-dnak,  the  weird  little  white  animal  which  makes 
beast  noises  round  the  graves  of  children,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  absorbed  their  souls;  and  of  the 
j)6long,  or  familiar  spirits,  which  men  bind  to  their 
service  by  raising  them  up  from  the  corpses  of  babies 
that  have  been  stillborn,  the  tips  of  whose  tongues 
they  bite  off  and  swallow  after  the  infant  has  been 
brought  to  life  by  magic  agencies.  It  was  at  this 
])oint  that  young  Aliddleton  began  to  pluck  up  his 
ears;  and  I,  finding  that  one  of  my  hearers  was  at 
last  showing  signs  of  being  interested,  launched  out 
with  renewed  vigoiu-,  until  my  sorely  tried  compan- 
ions, one  by  one,  went  off  to  bed,  each  to  his  own 
quarters. 

Aliddleton  was  staying  with  me  at  the  time,  and  he 
and  I  sat  for  a  while  in  silence,  after  the  others  had 
gone,  looking  at  the  moonlight  on  the  river.  Middle- 
ton  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"That  was  a  curious  myth  you  were  telling  us 
about  the  polong,''''  he  said.  "There  is  an  incident 
connected  with  it  which  I  have  never  s})oken  of 
before,  and  have  always  sworn  that  T  would  keep  to 


THE     GHOUL  117 

myself;  but  I  have  a  good  mind  to  tell  you  about  it, 
because  you  are  the  only  man  I  know  who  will  not 
write  me  down  a  liar  if  I  do." 

"That's  all  right.     Fire  away,"  I  said. 

"Well,"  said  Middleton.  "It  was  like  this.  You 
remember  Juggins,  of  course.'*  He  was  a  naturalist, 
you  know,  dead  nuts  upon  becoming  an  F.  R.  S. 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  he  came  to  stay  with 
me  during  the  close  season*  last  year.  He  was  hunt- 
ing for  bugs  and  orchids  and  things,  and  spoke  of 
liimself  as  an  anthropologist  and  a  botanist  and  a 
zoologist,  and  Heaven  knows  what  besides;  and  he 
used  to  fill  his  bedroom  with  all  sorts  of  creeping, 
crawling  things,  kept  in  very  indifferent  custody, 
;ind  my  ^'eranda  with  all  kinds  of  trash  and  rotting 
green  trade  that  he  brought  in  from  the  jimgle.  He 
stopj)ed  with  me  for  about  ten  days,  and  when  he 
heard  that  duty  was  taking  me  upriver  into  the 
Sakai  country,  he  asked  me  to  let  him  come,  too.  I 
was  rather  bored,  for  the  tribesmen  are  mighty  shy 
of  strangers  and  wei'e  only  just  getting  used  to  me; 
but  he  was  awfully  keen,  and  a  decent  beggar  enough, 
in  spite  of  his  dirty  ways,  so  I  couldn't  very  well  say 
'No."  When  we  had  poled  upstream  for  about  a 
week,  and  hatl  got  well  up  into  the  Sakai  country,  we 
had  to  leave  our  l)oats  behind  at  the  foot  of  the  big 
rapids,  and  leg  it  for  the  rest  of  the  lime.  It  was 
very  rougli  going,  wading  up  and  down  sti'cams  when 
one  wasn't  clambering  up  a  hillside  or  sliding  down 

*  "Close  season,"  ;.  f.  from  th'j  beginning  of  November  to  the  end  of  February, 
during  wliich  linn:  tlie  rivers  on  the  eastern  seaboard  of  the  Malay  Teninsula  used  to 
be  closed  to  trallx  on  account  of  Iho  North  East  Monsoon, 


118  THE  GHOUL 

the  opposite  slope — you  know  the  sort  of  thmg — 
and  the  leeches  were  worse  than  I  have  ever  seen 
them — thousands  of  them,  swarming  up  your  back, 
and  fastening  in  clusters  on  to  your  neck,  even  when 
you  had  defeated  those  which  made  a  frontal  attack. 
I  had  not  enough  men  with  me  to  do  more  than  hump 
the  camp-kit  and  a  few  clothes,  so  we  had  to  live  on 
the  country,  which  doesn't  yield  much  up  among  the 
Sakai  except  yams  and  tapioca  roots  and  a  little 
Indian  corn,  and  soft  stuff  of  that  sort.  It  was  all 
new  to  Juggins,  and  gave  him  fits;  but  he  stuck  to  it 
like  a  man. 

"Well,  one  evening  when  the  night  was  shutting 
down  pretty  fast  and  rain  was  beginning  to  fall. 
Juggins  and  I  struck  a  fairly  large  Sakai  camp  in  the 
middle  of  a  clearing.  As  soon  as  we  came  but  of  the 
jungle,  and  began  tightroping  along  the  felled  timber, 
the  Sakai  sighted  us  and  bolted  for  covert  en  masse. 
By  the  time  we  reached  the  huts  it  was  pelting  in 
earnest,  and  as  my  men  were  pretty  well  fagged  out, 
I  decided  to  spend  the  night  in  the  camp,  and  not  to 
make  them  put  u])  temporary  shelters  for  us.  Sakai 
luits  are  uncleanly  places  at  best,  and  any  j)ort  has 
to  do  in  a  storm. 

"We  went  into  the  largest  of  the  hovels,  and  thei'o 
we  foimd  a  woman  lying  by  the  side  of  her  dead 
child.  She  had  apparently  felt  too  sick  to  bolt  with 
I  lie  rest  of  her  tribe.  The  kid  was  as  stiff  as  Ilerod, 
and  had  not  been  born  many  hours,  I  should  say. 
The  mother  seemed  pretty  bad,  antl  I  went  to  her, 
thinking  I  might  be  able  to  do  something  for  her; 


THE  GHOUL  119 

but  she  did  not  seem  to  see  It,  and  bit  and  snarled  at 
tne  like  a  wounded  animal,  clutching  at  the  dead 
child  the  while,  as  though  she  feared  I  should  take 
it  from  her.  I  therefore  left  her  alone;  and  Juggins 
and  I  took  up  our  quarters  in  a  smaller  hut  nearby, 
which  was  fairly  new  and  not  so  filthy  dirty  as  most 
Sakai  lairs. 

"Presently,  when  the  beggars  who  had  run  away 
found  out  that  I  was  the  intruder,  they  began  to  come 
back  again.  You  know  their  way.  First  a  couple 
of  men  came  and  peeped  at  us,  and  vanished  as 
soon  as  they  saw  they  were  observed.  Then  they 
came  a  trifle  nearer,  bobbed  up  suddenly,  and  peeped 
at  us  again.  I  called  to  them  in  Se-noi*,  which 
always  reassures  them,  and  when  they  at  last  sum- 
moned up  courage  to  approach,  gave  them  each  a 
handful  of  tobacco.  Then  they  went  back  into  the 
jungle  and  fetched  the  others,  and  very  soon  the  place 
was  crawling  with  Stlkai  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages. 

"We  got  a  meal  of  sorts,  and  settled  dowii  for  the 
night  as  best  we  could;  but  it  wasn't  a  restful  busi- 
ness. Juggins  swore  with  eloquence  at  the  uneven 
flooring,  made  of  very  roughly  trimmed  boughs, 
which  is  an  infernally  uncomfortable  thing  to  lie 
down  upon,  and  makes  one's  bones  ache  as  though 
they  were  coming  out  at  the  joints,  and  the  Sakai 
are  abominablv  restless  bedfellows  as  vou  know.     I 


*Se-iioi — one  of  the  two  main  branches,  into  which  the  Sakai  are  divided.  The 
other  is  called  Te-mi-aii  by  the  Se-noi.  All  the  SSkai  dialects  are  variants  of  the 
languages  spoken  by  these  two  principal  tribes,  which,  though  they  have  many 
words  in  common,  differ  from  one  another  almost  as  much  as,  say,  Italian  from 
Spanish. 


120  THE  GHOUL 

suppose  one  ought  to  realize  that  they  have  as  yet 
only  partially  emerged  from  the  animal,  and  that, 
like  the  beasts,  they  are  still  naturally  nocturnal. 
Anyway,  they  never  sleep  for  long  at  a  stretch, 
though  from  time  to  time  they  snuggle  down  and 
snore  among  the  piles  of  warm  wood  ashes  round  the 
central  fireplace,  and  whenever  you  wake,  you  will 
always  see  half  a  dozen  of  them  squatting  near  the 
blazing  logs,  half  hidden  by  the  smoke,  and  jabbering 
like  monkeys.  It  is  a  marvel  to  me  what  they  find 
to  yarn  about:  food,  or  rather  the  patent  impossi- 
bility of  ever  getting  enough  to  eat,  and  the  stony- 
heartedness of  Providence  and  of  the  neighbouring 
Malays  must  furnish  the  principal  topics,  I  should 
fancy,  with  an  occasional  respectful  mention  of 
beasts  of  prey  and  forest  demons.  That  night  they 
were  more  than  ordinarily  restless.  The  dead  baby 
was  enough  to  make  them  uneasy,  and  besides, 
they  had  got  wet  while  hiding  in  the  jungle  after  our 
arrival,  and  that  always  sets  the  skin  disease,  with 
which  all  Sakai  are  smothered,  itching  like  mad. 
Whenever  I  woke  I  could  hear  their  nails  going  on 
their  dirty  hides;  but  I  had  had  a  hard  day  and  was 
used  to  my  hosts'  little  ways,  so  I  contrived  to  sleep 
fairly  sound.  Juggins  told  me  next  morning  that 
he  had  had  line  nuit  hlancJie,  and  he  nearly  caused 
another  stampede  among  the  Sakai  by  trying  to  get  a 
specimen  of  the  fungus  or  bacillus,  or  whatever  it  is, 
that  occasions  the  skin  disease.  I  do  not  know 
whether  ht^  succeeded.  For  my  own  part,  I  think 
it   is   probably    due   to   chronic   anjiRmia — the   poor 


THE  GHOUL  HI 

devils  have  never  had  more  than  a  very  occasional 
full  meal  for  hundreds  of  generations.  I  have  seen 
little  brats,  hardly  able  to  stand,  white  with  it,  the 
skin  peeling  off  in  flakes,  and  I  used  to  frighten  Jug- 
gins out  of  his  senses  by  telling  him  he  had  contracted 
it  when  his  nose  was  flayed  by  the  sun. 

"Next  morning  I  woke  just  in  time  to  see  the  still- 
born baby  put  into  a  hole  in  the  ground.  They 
fitted  its  body  into  a  piece  of  bark,  and  stuck  it  in 
the  grave  they  had  dug  for  it  at  the  edge  of  the  clear- 
ing. They  buried  a  flint  and  steel  and  a  woodknife 
and  some  food,  and  a  few  other  things  with  it, 
though  no  living  baby  could  have  had  any  use  for 
most  of  them,  let  alone  a  dead  one.  Then  the  old 
medicine  man  of  the  tribe  recited  the  ritual  over  the 
grave.  I  took  the  trouble  to  translate  it  once.  It 
goes  something  like  this: 

'"O  Thou,  who  hast  gone  forth  from  among  those 
wlio  dwell  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  hast 
taken  for  thy  dwelling-place  the  land  which  is  beneath 
the  earth,  flint  and  steel  have  we  given  thee  to  kindle 
thy  fire,  raiment  to  clothe  thy  nakedness,  food  to 
fill  thy  belly,  and  a  woodknife  to  clear  thy  path. 
Go,  then,  and  make  unto  thyself  friends  among  those 
who  dwell  beneath  the  earth,  and  come  back  no 
more  to  trouble  or  molest  those  who  dwell  upon  the 
surface  of  the  earth.' 

"It  was  short  and  to  the  point;  and  then  they 
trampled  down  the  soil,  while  the  mother,  who  had 
got  upon  lier  feet  by  now,  whimpered  about  the 
place  like  a  cat  that  had  lost  its  kittens.     A  mangy, 


122  THE  GHOUL 

half-starved  dog  came  and  smelt  hungrily  about  the 
grave,  until  it  was  sent  howling  away  by  kicks  from 
every  human  animal  that  could  reach  it;  and  a  poor 
little  brat,  who  chanced  to  set  up  a  piping  song  a  few 
minutes  later,  was  kicked  and  cuffed  and  knocked 
about  by  all  who  could  conveniently  get  at  him  with 
foot,  hand,  or  missile.  Abstenance  from  song  and 
dance  for  a  period  of  nine  days  is  the  Sakai  way  of 
mourning  the  dead,  and  any  breach  of  this  is  held  to 
give  great  offence  to  the  spirit  of  the  departed  and 
to  bring  bad  luck  upon  the  tribe.  It  was  considered 
necessary,  therefore,  to  give  the  urchin  who  had 
done  the  wrong  a  fairly  bad  time  of  it  in  order  to 
propitiate  the  implacable  dead  baby. 

"  Next  the  Sakai  set  to  work  to  pack  all  their  house- 
hold goods — not  a  very  laborious  business;  and  in 
about  half  an  hour  the  last  of  the  laden  won^en,  who 
Was  carrying  so  many  cooking-pots,  and  babies  and 
rattan  bags  and  carved  bamboo-boxes  and  things, 
that  she  looked  like  the  outside  of  a  gipsy's  cart  at 
home,  had  filed  out  of  the  clearing  and  disappeared 
in  the  forest.  The  Sfdvai  always  shift  camp,  like 
that,  when  a  death  occurs,  because  they  think  the 
ghost  of  the  dead  haunts  the  phice  where  the  body 
died.  When  an  epidemic  breaks  out  among  them 
they  are  so  busy  changing  quarters,  building  new 
huts,  and  planting  fresh  catch  crops  that  they  have 
no  time  to  procure  proper  food,  and  half  those  who 
are  not  used  up  by  the  disease  die  of  semi-starvation. 
They  are  a  queer  lot. 

"Well,  Juggins  and  I  were  left  alone,  but  my  men 


THE  GHOUL  123 

needed  a  rest,  so  I  decided  to  trek  no  farther  that 
day,  and  Juggins  and  I  spent  our  time  trying  to  get 
a  shot  at  a  selddang*,  but  though  we  came  upon  great 
ploughed-up  runs,  which  the  herds  had  made  going 
down  to  water,  we  saw  neither  hoof  nor  horn,  and 
returned  at  night  to  the  deserted  Sakai  camp,  two 
of  my  ^lalays  fairly  staggering  under  the  piles  of 
rubbish  which  Juggins  called  his  botanical  specimens. 
The  men  we  had  left  behind  had  contrived  to  catch 
some  fish,  and  with  that  and  yams  we  got  a  pretty 
decent  meal,  and  I  was  lying  on  my  mat  reading  by 
the  aid  of  a  ddmar  torch,  and  thinking  how  lucky 
it  was  that  the  Sakai  had  cleared  out,  when  suddenly 
o!d  Juggins  sat  up,  with  his  eyes  fairly  snapping  at 
me  through  his  gig-lamps  in  his  excitement. 

■'T  say,'  he  said.  'I  must  have  that  baby.  It 
woidd  make  a  unique  and  invaluable  ethnological 
specimen.' 

"'Rot,'  I  said.  'Go  to  sleep,  old  man.  I  want 
to  read.' 

'"No.  but  I'm  serious,'  said  Juggins.  'You  do 
not  realize  the  unprecedented  character  of  the  oppor- 
tunity. The  Sakai  have  gone  away,  so  their  sus- 
('e])tibilities  would  not  be  outraged.  The  potential 
gain  to  sc;ience  is  immense — simply  immense.  It 
would  be  criminal  to  neglect  such  a  chance.  I  regard 
the  thing  in  the  light  of  a  duty  which  I  owe  to  human 
knowledge.  I  tell  you  straight,  I  mean  to  have  that 
baby  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  and  that  is  flat.' 


'Siladang    The  gaur  or  wild  buffalo.     It  is  the  same  as  the  Indian  variety,  but  it\ 
the  Malay  Peninsula  attains  Loa  isreaf^er  size  than  in  any  other  part  of  Asia. 


lU  THE  GHOUL 

"Juggins  was  forever  talking  about  human  knowl- 
edge, as  though  he  and  it  were  partners  in  a  business 
firm. 

'"It  is  not  only  the  Sakai  one  has  to  consider,'  I 
said.  'My  Malays  are  sensitive  about  body  snatch- 
ing, too.  One  has  to  think  about  the  effect  upon 
them.' 

'"I  can't  help  that,'  said  Juggins  resolutely.  *I 
am  going  out  to  dig  it  up  now.' 

"He  had  already'  put  his  boots  on,  and  was  sorting 
out  his  botanical  tools  in  search  of  a  trowel.  I  saw 
that  there  was  no  holding  him. 

"'Juggins,'  I  said  sharply.  'Sit  down.  You  are 
a  lunatic,  of  course,  but  I  was  another  when  I  allowed 
you  to  come  up  here  with  me,  knowing  as  I  did  that 
you  are  the  particular  species  of  crank  you  are. 
However,  I've  done  you  as  well  as  circumstances 
permitted,  and  as  a  mere  matter  of  gratitude  and 
decency,  I  think  you  might  do  what  I  wish.' 

"'I  am  sorry,'  said  Juggins  stiffly.  'I  am  ex- 
tremely sorry  not  to  be  able  to  oblige  you.  My  duty 
as  a  man  of  science,  however,  compels  me  to  avail 
myself  of  this  god-sent  opportunity  of  enlarging 
our  ethnological  knowledge  of  a  little-known 
people.' 

"'I  thought  you  did  not  believe  in  God,'  I  said 
sourly;  for  Juggins  added  a  militant  agnosticism  to 
his  other  attractive  qualities. 

"'I  believe  in  my  duty  to  human  knowledge,'  he 
replied  sententiously.  'And  if  you  will  not  help  me 
to  perform  it,  I  must  discharge  it  unaided.' 


THE  GHOUL  125 

"He  had  found  his  trowel,  and  again  rose  to  his 
feet. 

' "  Don't  be  an  ass,  Juggins,'  I  said.  '  Listen  to  me. 
I  have  forgotten  more  about  the  people  and  the 
country  here  than  you  will  ever  learn.  If  you  go 
and  dig  up  that  dead  baby,  and  my  Malays  see  you, 
there  will  be  the  devil  to  pay.  They  do  not  hold 
with  exhumed  corpses,  and  have  no  liking  for  or 
sympathy  with  people  who  go  fooling  about  with 
such  things.  They  have  not  yet  been  educated  up 
to  the  pitch  of  interest  in  the  secrets  of  science  which 
has  made  of  you  a  potential  criminal,  and  if  they 
could  understand  our  talk,  they  would  be  convinced 
that  you  needed  the  kid's  body  for  some  devilry 
or  witchcraft  business,  and  ten  to  one  they  would 
clear  out  and  leave  us  in  the  lurch.  Then  who  would 
carry  your  precious  botanical  specimens  back  to  the 
lioats  for  you,  and  just  think  how  the  loss  of  them 
would  knock  the  bottom  out  of  human  knowledge 
for  good  and  all.' 

"'The  skeleton  of  the  child  is  more  valuable  still,' 
replied  Juggins.  'It  is  well  that  you  should  under- 
stand that  in  this  matter — which  for  me  is  a  question 
of  my  duty — I  am  not  to  be  moved  from  my  purpose 
v'ither  by  arguments  or  threats.' 

"He  was  as  obstinate  as  a  mule,  and  I  was  pretty 
sick  with  him;  but  I  saw  that  if  I  left  him  to  himself 
ho  would  do  the  thing  so  chimsily  that  my  fellows 
would  get  wind  of  it,  and  if  that  happened  I  was 
afraid  that  they  might  desert  us.  The  tracks  in 
that  Sakai  country  are  abominably  confusing,  and 


126  THE  GHOUL 

quite  apart  from  the  fear  of  losing  all  our  camp-kit, 
.vhich  we  could  not  hump  for  ourselves,  I  was  by  no 
means  certain  that  I  could  find  my  own  way  back 
to  civilization  unaided.  Making  a  virtue  of  ne- 
cessity, therefore,  I  decided  that  I  would  let  Juggins 
have  his  beastly  specimen,  provided  that  he  would 
consent  to  be  guided  entirely  by  me  in  all  details 
connected  with  the  exhumation. 

" '  You  are  a  rotter  of  the  first  water,'  I  said  frankly. 
'And  if  I  ever  get  you  back  to  my  station,  I'll  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  you  as  long  as  I  live.  All 
the  same,  I  am  to  blame  for  having  brought  you  up 
here,  and  I  suppose  I  must  see  you  through.' 

'"You're  a  brick,'  said  Juggins,  quite  unn:oved 
by  my  insults.     'Come  on.' 

"'Wait,'  I  replied  repressively.  'This  thing  can- 
not be  done  until  my  people  are  all  asleep.  Lie 
down  on  your  mat  and  keep  quiet.  When  it  is  safe, 
I'll  give  you  the  word.' 

"Juggins  groaned,  and  tried  to  persuade  me  to  let 
him  go  at  once;  but  I  swore  that  nothing  would  in- 
duce me  to  move  before  midnight,  and  with  that  I 
rolled  over  on  my  side  and  lay  reading  and  smokmg, 
while  Juggins  fumed  and  fretted  as  he  watched  the 
slow  hands  of  his  watch  creeping  round  the  dial. 

"I  always  take  books  with  me  into  the  jungle,  and 
the  more  completely  incongruous  they  are  to  my 
immediate  surroundings  the  more  refreshing  I  find 
them.  That  evening,  I  remember,  I  happened  to  be 
rereading  Miss  Florence  Montgomery's  "Misimder- 
stood"  with  ihc  tears  running  down  my  nose;  and 


THE  GHOUL  127 

by  the  time  my  Malays  were  all  asleep,  this  incidental 
wallowing  in  sentimentalit\'  had  made  me  more  sick 
with  Juggins  and  his  disgusting  project  than  ever. 

"I  never  felt  so  like  a  criminal  as  I  did  that  night, 
as  Juggins  and  I  gingerly  picked  our  way  out  of  the 
hut  across  the  prostrate  forms  of  my  sleeping  Malays; 
nor  had  I  realized  before  what  a  difficult  job  it  is  to 
walk  without  noise  on  an  openwork  flooring  of  un- 
even boughs.  We  got  out  of  the  place  and  down  the 
crazy  stair-ladder  at  last,  without  waking  any  of  my 
fellows,  and  we  then  began  to  creep  along  the  edge 
of  the  jungle  that  hedged  the  clearing  about.  Why 
did  we  think  it  necessary  to  creep  .^  I  don't  know. 
Partly  we  did  not  want  to  be  seen  by  the  Malays,  if 
any  of  them  happened  to  wake;  but  besides  that,  the 
long  wait  and  the  uncanny  sort  of  work  we  were  after 
had  set  our  nerves  going  a  bit,  I  expect. 

"The  night  was  as  still  as  most  nights  are  in  real, 
pukka  jungle.  That  is  to  say,  that  it  was  as  full 
of  noises — little,  quiet,  half-heard  beast  and  tree 
noises — as  an  egg  is  full  of  meat;  and  every  occasional 
louder  sound  made  me  jump  almost  out  of  my  skin. 
There  was  not  a  breath  astir  in  the  clearing,  but  miles 
up  above  our  heads  the  clouds  were  racing  across 
the  moon,  which  looked  as  though  it  were  scudding 
through  them  in  the  opposite  direction  at  a  tremen- 
dous rate,  like  a  great  white  fire  balloon.  It  was 
pitch  dark  along  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  for  the 
jungle  threw  a  heavy  shadow;  and  Juggins  kept 
knocking  those  great  clumsy  feet  of  his  against  the 
stumps,  and  swearing  softly  under  his  breath. 


128  THE  GHOUL 

"Just  as  we  were  getting  near  the  child's  grave 
the  clouds  obscuring  the  moon  became  a  trifle 
thinner,  and  the  slightly  increased  light  showed  me 
something  that  caused  me  to  clutch  Juggins  by  the 
arm. 

"'Hold  hard!'  I  whispered,  squatting  down  in- 
stinctively in  the  shadow,  and  dragging  him  after  me. 
'What's  that  on  the  grave?' 

"Juggins  hauled  out  his  six-shooter  with  a  tug, 
and  looking  at  his  face,  I  saw  that  he  was  as  pale  as 
death  and  more  than  a  little  shaky.  He  was  pressing 
up  against  me,  too,  as  he  squatted,  a  bit  closer,  I 
fancied,  than  he  would  have  thought  necessary  at 
any  other  time,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was 
trembling.  I  whispered  to  him,  telling  him  not  to 
shoot;  and  we  sat  there  for  nearly  a  minute,  I  should 
think,  peering  through  the  uncertain  light,  and  trying 
to  make  out  what  the  creature  might  be  which  was 
crouching  above  the  grave  and  making  a  strange 
scratching  noise. 

"Then  the  moon  came  out  suddenly  into  a  patch 
of  open  sky,  and  we  could  see  clearly  at  last,  and 
what  it  revealed  did  not  make  me,  for  one,  feel  any 
better.  The  thing  we  had  been  looking  at  was  kneel- 
ing on  the  grave,  facing  us.  It,  or  rather  she,  was 
an  old,  old  Sakai  hag.  Slie  was  stark  naked,  and 
in  the  brilliant  light  of  the  moon  I  could  see  her  long, 
pendulous  breasts  swaying  about  like  an  ox's  dew- 
lap, and  the  creases  and  wrinkles  with  which  her 
withered  hide  was  criss-crossed,  and  the  discoloured 
patches  of  foul  skin  disease.     Her  hair  hung  about 


THE  GIIOLTL  120 

her  face  in  great  matted  locks,  falling  forward  as  she 
bent  above  the  grave,  and  her  eyes  glinted  through 
the  tangle  like  those  of  some  unclean  and  shaggj' 
animal.  Her  long  fingers,  which  had  nails  like 
claws,  were  tearing  at  the  dirt  of  the  grave,  and  her 
body  was  drenched  with  sweat,  so  that  it  glistened 
in  the  moonlight. 

"'It  looks  as  though  some  one  else  wanted  your 
precious  baby  for  a  specimen.  Juggins,'  I  whispered; 
and  a  spirit  of  emulation  set  him  floundering  on  to 
his  feet,  till  I  pulled  him  back.  'Keep  still,  man,' 
I  added.  'Let  us  see  what  the  old  hag  is  up  to. 
It  isn't  the  brat's  mother,  is  it.^' 

"'No,'  panted  Juggins.  'This  is  a  much  older 
woman.     Great  God!     AYliat  a  ghoul  it  is ! ' 

"Then  we  were  silent  again.  Where  we  squatted 
we  were  hidden  from  the  hag  by  a  few  tufts  of  rank 
Idlang  grass,  and  the  shadow  of  the  jungle  also  cov- 
ered us.  Even  if  we  had  been  in  the  open,  however, 
I  question  whether  the  old  woman  would  have  seen 
us,  she  was  so  eagerly  intent  upon  her  work.  For  full 
five  minutes,  as  near  as  I  can  guess,  we  squatted 
there  watching  her  scrape  and  tear  and  scratch  at 
the  earth  of  the  grave,  with  a  sort  of  frenzy  of  energy; 
and  all  the  while  her  lips  kept  going  like  a  shivering 
man's  teeth,  though  no  sound  that  I  could  hear  came 
from  them. 

"At  length  she  got  down  to  the  corpse,  and  I  saw 
her  lift  the  bark  wrapper  out  of  the  grave,  and  draw 
the  baby's  body  from  it.  Then  she  sat  back  upon 
her  heels,  tluvw  up  her  head,  just  hko  a  dog,  and 


130  THE  GHOUL 

bayed  at  the  moon.  She  did  this  three  times,  and 
I  do  not  know  what  there  was  about  those  long-drawn 
howls  that  jangled  up  one's  nerves,  but  each  time 
the  sound  became  more  insistent  and  intolerable, 
and  as  I  listened,  my  hair  fairly  lifted.  Then,  very 
carefully,  she  laid  the  child's  body  down  in  a  position 
that  seemed  to  have  some  connection  with  the  points 
of  the  compass,  for  she  took  a  long  time,  and  con- 
sulted the  moon  and  the  shadows  repeatedly  before 
she  was  satisfied  with  the  orientation  of  the  thing's 
head  and  feet. 

"Then  she  got  up,  and  began  very  slowly  to  dance 
round  and  round  the  grave.  It  was  not  a  reassin-ing 
sight,  out  there  in  the  awful  loneliness  of  the  night, 
miles  away  from  every  one  and  everything,  to  watch 
that  abominable  old  beldam  capering  imcleanh" 
in  the  moonlight,  while  those  restless  lips  of  her< 
called  noiselessly  upon  all  the  devils  in  hell,  with 
words  that  we  could  not  hear.  Juggins  pressed  up 
against  me  harder  than  ever,  and  his  hand  on  my  arm 
gripped  tighter  and  tighter.  He  was  shaking  like  a 
leaf,  and  I  do  not  fancy  that  I  was  much  steadier. 
It  does  not  sound  very  terrible,  as  I  tell  it  to  you  here 
in  comparatively  civilized  surroundings;  but  at  the 
time,  the  sight  of  that  obscure  figiu*e  dancing  silently 
in  the  moonlight  with  its  ungainly  shadow  scared  me 
badly. 

"She  capered  like  that  for  some  minutes,  setting 
to  the  dead  baby  as  though  she  were  in\iting  it  to 
join  her,  and  the  intent  purposefulness  of  her  made 
me  feel  sick.     If  anybody  had  told  me  tliat  morning 


THE  GHOUL  131 

that  I  was  capable  of  being  frightened  out  of  my 
wits  by  an  old  woman,  I  should  have  laughed;  but 
I  saw  nothing  outlandish  in  the  idea  while  that  gro- 
tesque dancing  lasted. 

"Her  movements,  v^hich  had  been  very  slow  at 
first,  became  gradually  faster  and  faster,  till  every 
atom  of  her  was  in  violent  motion,  and  her  body 
and  limbs  were  swaying  this  way  and  that,  like  the 
boughs  of  a  tree  in  a  tornado.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden, 
she  collapsed  on  the  ground,  with  her  back  toward 
us,  and  seized  the  baby's  body.  She  seemed  to  nurse 
it,  as  a  mother  might  nurse  her  child;  and  as  she 
swayed  from  side  to  side,  I  could  see  first  the  curve 
of  the  creature's  head,  resting  on  her  thin  left  arm, 
and  then  its  feet  near  the  crook  of  her  right  elbow. 
And  now  she  was  crooning  to  it  in  a  cracked  false+to 
chant  that  might  have  been  a  lullaby  or  perhaps 
some  incantation. 

"She  rocked  the  child  slowly  at  first,  but  very 
rapidly  the  pace  quickened,  until  her  body  was 
swaying  to  and  fro  from  the  hips,  and  from  side  to 
side,  at  such  a  rate  that,  to  me,  she  looked  as  though 
she  were  falling  all  ways  at  once.  And  simultane- 
ously her  shrill  chanting  became  faster  and  faster, 
and  every  instant  more  nerve-sawing. 

"Next  she  suddenly  changed  the  motion.  She 
gripped  the  thing  she  was  nursing  by  its  arms,  and 
began  to  dance  it  up  and  down,  still  moving  with 
incredible  agility,  and  crooning  more  damnably  than 
ever.  I  could  see  the  small,  puckered  face  of  the 
thing  above  her  head  every  time  she  danced  it  up, 


132  THE  GHOUL 

and  then,  as  she  brought  it  down  again,  I  lost  sight 
of  it  for  a  second,  until  she  danced  it  up  once  more. 
I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  thing's  face  every  time 
it  came  into  view,  and  I  swear  it  was  not  an  optical 
illusion — it  begem  to  be  alive.  Its  eyes  were  open 
and  moving,  and  its  mouth  was  working,  like  that  of 
a  child  which  tries  to  laugh  but  is  too  young  to  do  it 
properly.  Its  face  ceased  to  be  like  that  of  a  new- 
born baby  at  all.  It  was  distorted  by  a  horrible 
animation.     It  was  the  most  unearthly  sight. 

"Juggins  saw  it,  too,  for  I  could  hear  him  drawing 
his  breath  harder  and  shorter  than  a  healthy  man 
should. 

"Then,  all  in  a  moment,  the  hag  did  something. 
I  did  not  see  clearly  precisely  what  it  was;  but  it 
looked  to  me  as  though  she  bent  forward  and  kissed 
it;  and  at  that  very  instant  a  cry  went  up  like  the 
wail  of  a  lost  soul.  It  may  have  been  something  in 
the  jungle,  but  I  know  my  Malayan  forests  pretty 
thoroughly,  and  I  have  never  heard  any  cry  like  it 
before  nor  since.  The  next  thing  we  knew  was  tliMt 
the  old  hag  had  thrown  the  body  back  into  the  grave, 
and  was  dumping  down  the  earth  and  jumping  on  it, 
wliile  that  strange  cry  grew  fainter  and  fainter.  1 1 
all  happened  so  quickly  that  I  had  not  had  time  to 
Lliink  or  move  before  I  was  startled  back  into  full 
consciousness  by  the  sharp  crack  of  Juggins's  revolver 
fired  close  to  my  ear. 

"'She's  l)urying  it  alive!'  he  cried. 

"It  was  a  (puMT  thing  for  a  man  to  say,  who  had 
seen  the  child  lying  stark  and  dead  more  than  thirty 


THE  GHOUL  133 

hours  earlier;  but  the  same  thought  was  in  my  mind, 
too,  as  we  both  started  forward  at  a  run.  The  hag 
had  vanished  into  the  jungle  as  silently  as  a  shadow. 
Juggins  had  missed  her,  of  course.  He  was  always 
a  rotten  bad  shot.  However,  we  had  no  thought 
for  her.  We  just  flung  ourselves  upon  the  grave, 
and  dug  at  the  earth  with  our  hands,  until  the  baby 
lay  in  my  arms.  It  was  cold  and  stiff,  and  putre- 
faction had  already  begun  its  work.  I  forced  open  its 
mouth,  and  saw  something  that  I  had  expected. 
The  tip  of  its  tongue  was  missing.  It  looked  as 
though  it  had  been  bitten  off  by  a  set  of  shocking 
bad  teeth,  for  the  edge  left  behind  was  like  a  saw. 

'"'The  thing's  quite  dead,'  I  said  to  Juggins. 

"'But  it  cried — it  cried!"  whimpered  Juggins. 
'  I  can  hear  it  now.  To  think  that  we  let  that  horri- 
])le  creature  murder  it.' 

"He  sat  down  with  his  head  in  his  hands.  He  was 
utterly  unmanned. 

"Xow  that  the  fright  was  over,  I  was  beginning  io 
be  quite  brave  again.     It  is  a  way  I  have. 

"'Rot,'  I  said.  'The  thing's  been  dead  for  hours, 
and  anyway,  here's  your  ])reci()us  specimen  if  you 
want  it.' 

"I  had  ])ul  it  down,  and  now  pointed  at  it  from  a 
distance.  Its  proximity  was  not  i)leasant.  Juggins, 
however,  only  shuddered. 

"'Bury  it,  in  Heaven's  name,'  he  said,  his  voice 
broken  by  sobs.  'I  would  not  have  it  for  the  world. 
Besides,  it  ivd.s  alive.     I  saw  and  heard  it.' 

"^Yell,  I  put  it  ba^'k  in  its  grave,  and  next  day  we 


134  THE  GHOUL 

left  the  Sakai  country.  Juggins  had  a  whacking 
dose  of  fever,  and  anyway  we  had  had  about  enough 
of  the  Sakai  and  of  all  their  engaging  habits  to  last 
us  for  a  bit. 

"We  swore  one  another  to  secrecy  as  Juggins, 
when  he  got  his  nerve  back,  said  that  the  accuracy  of 
our  observations  was  not  susceptible  of  scientific 
proof,  which,  I  understand,  was  the  rock  his  religion 
had  gone  to  pieces  on;  and  I  did  not  fancy  being  told 
that  I  was  drunk  or  that  I  was  lying.  You,  however, 
know  something  of  the  uncanny  things  of  the  East, 
so  to-night  I  have  broken  our  vow.  Now  I'm  going 
to  turn  in.     Don't  give  me  away." 

Young  Middleton  died  of  fever  and  dysentery, 
somewhere  upcountry,  a  year  or  two  later.  His  name 
was  not  Middleton,  of  course;  so  I  am  not  really 
"giving  him  away,"  as  he  called  it,  even  now.  As 
for  his  companion,  though  when  I  last  heard  of 
liim  he  was  still  alive  and  a  shining  light  in  the  scien- 
tific world,  I  have  named  him  Juggins,  and  as  the 
family  is  a  large  one,  he  will  run  no  great  risk  of  being 
identified. 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

I  HAVE  said  that  the  Malays,  taken  in  bulk, 
have  no  bowels.  The  story  I  am  about  to  tell 
illustrates  the  truth  of  this  assertion  rather 
forcibly.  The  particular  incident  related  happened 
on  the  east  coast  of  the  Malay  Peninsula  in  the  year 
of  grace  1895.  The  native  gaol,  of  which  mention 
is  made,  was  visited  by  me  a  month  or  two  before 
I  wrote  the  account  of  it;  and  it  and  its  numerous 
counterparts  continued  to  exist  in  some  of  the  inde- 
pendent Malay  States  on  the  east  coast,  until  the 
British  eventually  took  charge  of  their  affairs  in  1910. 
It  is  useful  to  bear  facts  such  as  these  in  mind  lest> 
in  our  honest  solicitude  for  the  rights  and  liberties  of 
mankind,  we  should  subscribe  too  enthusiastically 
to  the  dictum  of  the  late  Sir  Henry  Campbell- 
Bannerman  that  good  government  can  never  be  a 
satisfactory  substitute  for  self-government.  From 
this  opinion  thousands  of  my  friends  in  JNIalaya 
would  passionately  dissent,  and  as  to  whether  the 
craven  wretches  who  thus  submit  to  alien  rule  can 
plead  any  justification  for  their  heresy,  let  the  readers 
of  this  story  judge.  For  the  rest,  I  must  frankly 
admit  that  it  is  not  a  pretty  tale,  and  I  would  counsel 
persons  who  prefer  to  ignore  the  existence  of  uncom- 
fortable things  to  give  it  a  wide  berth. 

13^- 


136  A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

In  one  of  the  States  on  the  east  coast  of  the  Penin- 
sula there  Hved,  some  twenty  years  ago,  a  Raja  who, 
though  he  was  not  the  ruler  of  the  country,  was  a  man 
of  exalted  position  and  stood  possessed  of  consider- 
able power.  This  man  owned  much  land,  many 
cattle,  several  wives,  a  host  of  retainers,  and  a  num- 
ber of  slave-debtors.  Also  his  reputation  for  kind- 
ness of  heart  stood  high  among  the  people.  This 
last  fact  is  worth  remembering,  having  regard  to 
what  I  am  about  to  relate.  Native  public  opinion 
in  no  wise  reprobated  him  for  his  share  in  the  matter; 
which  shows  that  when  a  Malay  of  standing  bore  the 
character  of  a  brute  or  a  bully  he  had  earned  it  by 
the  commission  of  atrocities  for  which  simple  people, 
like  you  and  me,  do  not  even  know  the  technical 
names. 

Upon  a  certain  day  a  kris  was  stolen  from  this 
Raja,  and  suspicion  fastened  upon  one  of  his  slave- 
debtors,  a  man  named  Talib.  As  it  happened,  tlu^ 
fellow  was  innocent  of  the  theft;  but  his  protestations 
were  not  believed,  and  his  master  forthwith  consigned 
him  to  the  pen-jdra,  or  local  gaol.  The  tedious 
formality  of  a  trial  played  no  part  in  Malayan  judicial 
proceedings,  and  nothing  in  the  nature  of  the  sifting 
of  evidence  was  regarded  as  necessary.  The  stolen 
dagger  was  the  })roi)erty  of  a  j)rince.  The  suspecl 
was  a  man  of  no  account.  That  was  enough;  and 
Talib  went  to  gaol  accordingly,  the  Rilja  issuing  aji 
order — a  sort  of  lettre  de  cachet— for  his  admission. 

To  European  ears  this  does  not  sound  very  terrible. 
Miscarriages  of  justice  are  not  luiknown,  even  in 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON  137 

civilized  lands;  and  in  semi-barbarous  countries  such 
things  are,  of  course,  to  be  looked  upon  as  being 
all  in  the  day's  march.  Unfortunately,  however,  a 
pen-jdra  in  independent  Malaya  only  resembles  the 
prisons  with  which  white  men  are  acquainted  in  the 
fact  that  both  are  places  designed  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  criminals.  Some  ugly  things  are  to  be  read 
in  the  pages  of  "It  Is  Never  too  Late  to  Mend,"  but 
the  prison  described  by  Charles  Read  might  rank 
for  comfort  with  a  modern  work-house  beside  the 
gaol  in  which  Talib  was  confined. 

It  was  situated  in  one  of  the  most  crowded  portions 
of  the  native  town.  It  consisted  of  two  rows  of 
cages,  placed  back  to  back,  each  one  measuring  some 
six  feet  in  length,  two  feet  in  width,  and  five  feet  in 
height.  These  cages  were  formed  of  heavy  slabs  of 
wood,  set  close  together,  with  spaces  of  about  two 
inches  in  every  ten  for  the  admission  of  light  and  air. 
The  floors,  which  were  also  made  of  wooden  bars, 
were  raised  about  six  inches  from  the  ground ;  and  the 
cages,  which  were  twelve  in  number,  were  surrounded 
at  a  distance  of  about  two  feet  by  a  solid  wall  made 
of  very  thick  planks  of  hard  wood,  mortised  firmly 
together.  No  sanitary  appliances  of  any  kind  were 
provided;  and  though  a  prisoner,  once  placed  in  a 
cell,  was  not  allowed  to  come  out  of  it  again  for  a 
moment  until  the  necessary  money-payment  had 
been  made,  or  until  death  brought  him  merciful 
release,  the  precincts  were  never  cleaned  out,  nor 
were  any  steps  taken  to  prevent  the  condition  of  the 
captives  from  being  such  as  would  disgrace  that  of  a 


138  A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

wild  beast  in  a  small  travelling  menagerie.  The 
space  before  the  floor  and  the  ground,  and  the  interval 
which  separated  the  cells  from  the  wooden  walls  set 
so  close  about  them,  was  one  seething,  writhing 
mass  of  putrefaction.  Here  in  the  tropics,  under  a 
brazen  sun,  all  unclean  things  turn  to  putrid,  filthy 
life  within  the  hour;  and  in  a  Malayan  pen-jd:a, 
wither  no  breath  of  wind  could  penetrate,  the  atmos- 
phere was  heavy  with  the  fumes  bred  of  the  rotten- 
ness of  years,  and  the  reeking  pungency  of  oflPal  that 
was  new. 

This,  then,  was  the  place  of  confinement  to  which 
Talib  was  condemned;  nor  did  his  agonies  end  here, 
for  the  gnawing  pangs  of  hunger  were  added  to  his 
other  sufferings.  He  was  handed  over  to  the  gentle 
care  of  the  per-iaiida,  or  executioner — an  official  who, 
in  the  independent  Malay  States,  united  the  kindly 
office  of  life-taker  and  official  torturer  with  the 
hardly  more  humane  post  of  gaoler.  This  man,  like 
most  of  his  fellows,  had  been  chosen  in  the  beginning 
on  account  of  his  great  physical  strength  and  an 
indifference  to  the  sight  of  pain  which  was  remarkable 
even  among  an  insensible  people;  and  the  calling 
whicli  he  had  pursued  for  years  had  endowed  the 
natural  brutality  of  his  character  with  an  abnormal 
fcntcity.  He  was,  moreover,  an  official  of  the  an- 
cient East — a  class  of  worthies  who  reciuire  more  su- 
pervision to  restrain  them  from  pilfering  than  do  even 
the  Chinese  coolies  in  a  gold  mine,  where  the  precious 
metal  winks  at  you  in  the  flickering  candlelight. 
Needless  to  say,  the  higher  state  officials  were  not  so 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON  139 

forgetful  of  their  dignity,  or  so  lost  to  a  sense  of 
propriety,  as  to  pry  into  the  doings  of  a  mere  execu- 
tioner; so  the  per-tanda  enjoyed  to  the  full  the  advan- 
tages of  a  free  hand.  During  the  months  of  the 
year  when  the  mouth  of  the  river  was  accessible  to 
native  craft  he  had  the  right  to  collect  dues  of  rice 
and  fish  from  all  vessels  and  fishing-boats  using  the 
harbour;  but  during  the  "close  season,"  when  the 
northeast  monsoon  was  raging,  no  allowance  of  any 
kind  was  made  to  him  for  the  board  of  the  prisoners  in 
his  charge.  In  these  circumstances,  since  a  per- 
kuida  is  not  a  philanthropical  institution,  it  was  only 
natural  that  he  should  pervert  to  his  own  use,  and 
sell  to  all  comers,  the  collections  which  he  made  dur- 
ing the  open  season,  so  that  his  household  might  not 
be  without  a  sufficiency  of  rice  and  raiment  during  the 
dreary  six  months  that  the  hatches  were  down  for  the 
monsoon.  Death  from  slow  and  lingering  starvation 
was,  therefore,  a  by  no  means  uncommon  incident 
in  the  pen-jdra;  and  one  of  Talib's  earliest  experi- 
ences was  to  witness  the  last  agonies  of  a  fel- 
low-captive in  an  adjoining  cell,  who  came  from 
upcountry,  knew  no  one  in  the  capital,  and  so  had  died 
painfully  of  gradual  inanition.  Talib  himself  was 
a  trifle  more  fortunate,  for  food  was  daily  brought  to 
him  by  a  girl  who  had  been  his  sweetheart  before  his 
trouble  fell  upon  him;  and  though  his  hunger-pangs 
could  not  be  wholly  allayed  by  such  slender  doles 
as  she  contrivH^d  to  save  for  him  from  her  own  ration 
of  rice  and  fish,  he,  for  the  time,  was  not  exposed  to 
actual  danger  of  death  from  want.     But  always  he 


140  A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

was  tortured  by  fear.  He  knew  that  the  horror  of 
his  surroundings  was  growing  upon  the  girl;  that 
each  visit  demanded  of  her  a  new  and  a  stronger 
effort,  that  other  men  were  wooing  her;  and  that 
sooner  or  later  she  would  turn  to  them,  and  thrust 
from  her  mind  the  memory  of  the  loathesome  crea- 
ture into  which  he  knew  himself  to  be  rapidly  degen- 
erating. In  that  hour  he  would  be  robbed  alike  of 
his  love  and  of  his  daih'  food. 

The  prisoner  in  the  cage  on  Talib's  left  was  little 
more  than  a  skeleton  when  the  latter  first  entered  the 
gaol.  He  lay  huddled  up  in  a  corner,  with  his  hands 
pressed  against  his  sunken  stomach  and  the  sharp 
angles  of  his  bones  peeping  through  his  bed-sores — 
motionless,  miserable,  and  utterly  degraded,  but 
stirred  to  a  sort  of  frenzy,  now  and  again,  b}-  the 
sight  or  smell  of  cooked  food.  Talib  saved  a  small 
portion  of  his  own  insufficient  meal  for  this  man,  for 
he  was  new  to  the  prison,  and  had  not  yet  acquired 
the  brutal  selfishness  and  indifference  that  charac- 
terized the  other  inmates;  but  the  poor  wretcli 
was  already  too  far  gone  for  any  such  tardy  aid  to 
avail  to  save  him.  Though  he  snatched  avidly  at 
the  stuff  which  Talib  passed,  in  grudging  handfuls, 
through  the  bars  of  his  cell,  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  he  could  swallow  a  grain  of  it.  When,  too,  a 
little  had  at  last  been  forced  down  his  shrunken  gul- 
let his  enfeebled  stomach  rejected  it,  and  violent 
spasms  and  vomitings  ensued,  which  seemed  to  rend 
his  stricken  frame  much  as  a  fierce  gust  of  wind  rips 
through  the  p;dm-leaf  sail  of  a  native  fishing-smack. 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON  141 

After  a  day  or  two  he  became  wildly  delirious,  and 
Talib  then  witnessed  a  terrible  sight.  A  raving 
maniac  in  a  well-ordered  asylum,  where  padded  walls 
and  careful  tendance  do  much  to  save  the  afflicted 
body  from  the  blind  fury  of  the  disordered  brain,  is 
an  appalling  thing  to  see;  but  in  the  vile  cage  in 
which  this  wretched  creature  was  confined  there  was 
nothing  to  restrain  the  violence  he  was  practising 
upon  himself.  With  the  strength  of  madness  he 
dashed  his  head  and  body  relentlessly  against  the 
unyielding  walls  of  his  cell.  He  fell  back  crushed  and 
bleeding,  foaming  at  the  mouth  with  a  bloody  froth, 
and  making  beast  noises  in  his  throat.  The  per- 
tanda,  attracted  by  the  noise,  rested  his  back  against 
the  surrounding  wall  and  rocked  to  and  fro,  con- 
vulsed with  laughter,  each  brutal  jest  that  he  uttered 
being  greeted  with  obsequious  titters  from  the  caged 
animals  around  him. 

But  the  madman  was  oblivious  of  him  and  of  all 
tilings.  Once  more,  as  the  frenzy  took  him,  shaking 
him  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat,  he  flung  himself  at  the 
bars,  and  after  another  fearful  i)aroxysm,  fell  back 
inert  upon  the  floor.  For  hours  he  lay  there  ex- 
hausted, but  wildly  restless;  too  spent  to  struggle,  and 
loo  demented  and  tortured  to  be  still.  He  moaned, 
he  groaned,  he  raved  and  cursed  with  vile  and  filthy 
words,  bit  and  snapped  like  a  dog  in  its  madness, 
strove  to  gnaw  the  loathsome  rags  which  had  long 
ceased  to  cover  his  nakedness,  and  then  again  was 
still,  save  for  the  incessant  rolling  of  his  head,  anil 
the   wilder  motion  of  his  eves,   which   bhized    wilh 


142  A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

fever.  The  per-tanda,  wearied  by  so  tame  an  exhibi- 
tion, withdrew  to  his  house;  and  a  little  before  the 
dawn,  when  the  chill  breeze,  which  conies  up  at  that 
hour  out  of  the  China  Sea,  was  making  itself  felt 
even  in  the  fetid  atmosphere  of  the  place,  his  reason, 
for  a  space,  returned  to  him,  and  he  spoke  to  Talib 
in  a  thin,  faraway  voice,  his  words  punctuated  by 
many  gasps  and  sighs  and  pauses. 

"Little  brother,"  he  whispered,  "do  you  also 
watch  .^  For  not  long  now  shall  your  elder  brother 
endure  these  pains.  The  order  is  come.  Have  you 
any  water?  I  thirst  sore.  No  matter,  it  is  the  fate 
to  which  I  was  born.  The  hair  of  the  heads  of  all 
men  alike  is  black,  but  the  lot  of  each  of  us  is  pecu- 
liar to  himself.  .  .  .  Listen.  I  stole  five  dollars 
from  a  chief.  ...  I  did  it  because  my  wife 
was  very  fair,  and  she  abused  me,  saying  that  I  gave 
her  neither  ornaments  nor  raiment.  .  .  .  Brother, 
I  was  detected,  and  the  chief  consigned  me  to 
the  pen-jdra.  ...  I  knew  not  then  that  it  was 
my  wife,  and  none  other,  who  gave  the  knowledge  of 
my  theft  to  the  chief,  he  in  whose  household  I  had 
been  born  and  bred.  .  .  .  He  desired  her,  and 
she  loved  him;  and  now  he  has  taken  her  to  wife,  I 
being  as  one  already  dead,  and  the  woman  being 
legally  divorced  from  me.  They  said  that  they 
would  set  me  free  if  I  would  divorce  her,  and  I  let 
fall  the  falak  in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  thinking 
thereby  to  escape  from  this  place.  But  .  .  .  ah, 
brother,  I  thirst.  Have  you  no  water.'*  .  . 
While  tlio  woman  was  vet  bound  to  me,  she  sent  me 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON  143 

food  by  one  of  the  chief's  slaves,  and  it  was  from  him 
that  I  learned  the  plot  that  had  undone  me.  .  .  . 
I  thirst,  I  thirst.  Have  you  no  water,  little  brother? 
.  .  .  x\fter  I  had  divorced  her  the  rice  did  not 
come  any  more.  ...  I  want  water.  My  mouth 
is  hard  and  rough  as  the  skin  of  a  skate,  and  it  is  dry 
as  the  fish  that  has  been  smoked  above  the  fire.  Have 
you  no  water  .^  .  .  .  Ya  Allah!  Maimunah, 
heart  of  my  heart,  fruit  of  my  eyes!  Water,  I  pray 
you.  Water.  Water.  O  mother!  O  mother!  O 
mother  of  mine!  Water,  mother!  ...  I  die 
I  die     .     .     .     mother     ..." 

His  voice  trailed  away  into  inarticulate  moanings, 
and  in  an  hour  he  was  dead. 

Next  day  his  body  was  carried  out  for  burial,  and 
for  a  time  his  cage  remained  untenanted. 

On  Talib's  right  a  man  was  confined  who  was  so 
haggard,  meagre,  filthy,  diseased,  and  brutal  in  his 
habits  that  it  was  d "fficult  to  believe  that  he  was  alto- 
gether human,  His  hair  fell  in  long,  tangled,  matted, 
vermin-infested  shocks,  almost  to  his  waist.  His 
eyes— two  smouldering  pits  of  flame— were  sunken 
deep  into  his  yellow  parchment-like  face.  His  cheek- 
bones were  so  jirominent  that  the  sharp  edges  seemed 
about  to  cut  their  way  through  the  skin,  and  his 
brows  jutted  forward  like  the  bosses  on  the  forehead 
of  a  fighting  ram.  The  dirt  of  ages  festered  in  the 
innumerable  wrinkles  and  creases  of  his  body;  and 
he  hardly  moved,  save  to  scratch  himself  fiercely, 
much  as  a  monkey  tears  at  his  flea-infested  hide.  A 
small  ration  of  rice  and  fish  was  brought  to  him  daih' 


144  A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

by  an  old  and  withered  hag — his  wife  of  former 
years — who  made  a  meagre  Hving  for  him  and  for 
herself  by  hawking  sweet-stuffs  from  door  to  door. 
She  came  to  him  twice  daily,  and  he  flung  himself 
ravenously  upon  the  food  with  guttural  noises  of 
satisfaction,  devouring  it  in  bestial  fashion,  while  she 
cooed  at  him  through  the  bars,  with  many  endearing 
epithets,  such  as  Malay  women  use  to  little  children. 
Not  even  his  revolting  degradation  had  been  able  to 
kill  her  love,  though  its  wretched  object  had  long  ago 
ceased  to  understand  it  or  to  recognize  her,  save  as 
the  giver  of  the  food  which  satisfied  the  last  appetite 
which  misery  had  left  to  him.  He  had  been  ten 
years  in  these  cages,  and  had  passed  through  the 
entire  range  of  feeling  of  which  a  Malay  captive  in  a 
native  gaol  is  capable — from  acute  misery  to  despair, 
from  despair,  by  slow  degrees,  to  stupid  indifference 
and  dementia,  until  at  the  long  last  he  had  attained 
to  the  condition  which  Malays  call  kdleh.  This  means 
a  complete  insensibility,  a  mental  and  physical 
ana\sthesia  so  absolute  that  it  reduces  a  sentient 
human  being  to  the  level  of  an  inanimate  object, 
while  leaving  to  him  many  of  the  disgusting  qualities 
of  an  ape. 

Talib  himself  had  as  yet  reached  only  the  first 
stage  of  his  suffering,  and  the  insistent  craving  for  one 
breath  of  fresh  air  grew  and  grew  and  gathered 
strength,  until  it  became  an  overmastering  longing 
that  day  and  night  cried  out  to  be  satisfied.  His 
memories  tortured  him — memories  of  the  chill 
morning  hour  at  which  he  had  been  wont  to  step 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON  145 

forth  from  his  house  into  the  dusk  of  the  dawning, 
and  to  make  his  way  to  the  river  which  poured  its 
cool  flood  seaward  beneath  the  curtain  of  white  mist; 
of  the  long  slanting  sunrays  beginning  to  dry  the  dew, 
as  he  walked  through  the  wet  grass  to  the  rice-fields 
behind  the  village;  of  the  return  home,  as  the  heat 
l>ecanie  intense,  with  the  pale  and  cloudless  sky  over- 
head, and  the  vivid  green  of  the  vegetation  covering 
all  the  earth;  of  the  long,  lazy  hours  spent  in  the  cool 
interior  of  the  thatched  house;  of  the  waning  of  the 
day,  as  the  buffaloes  began  to  troop  do\Mi  to  water; 
of  the  falling  of  the  night,  with  its  smell  of  wood- 
smoke  and  the  cooking  meal;  of  the  deep  sleep  that 
used  to  come  to  the  sound  of  the  humming  chorus 
from  the  insect  world  without.  For  these  things 
meant  for  him  liberty — the  freshness  and  cleanliness 
of  God's  good  earth^ — all  the  common  happenings 
which  had  made  life  beautiful,  but  which  till  now  he 
had  never  thought  about  or  prized. 

At  last  he  could  no  longer  restrain  his  passionate 
desire  to  escape,  if  only  for  a  few  hours,  from  the 
horrors  of  the  pen-jdra,  and,  reckless  of  consequences, 
he  told  the  per-fanda  that  if  he  could  be  taken  to  a 
place  a  day's  journey  up  the  river,  he  could  set  his 
hand  upon  the  missing  kiis  which,  he  said,  he  had 
hidden  there.  He  was  perfectly  aware  that  the 
dagger  was  not,  and  never  had  been,  buried  at  that 
spot,  for  he  knew  as  little  concerning  its  whereabouts 
as  the  per  tanda  himself.  He  could  foresee  that  his 
failure  would  be  followed  !)y  worse  punishment.  But 
he  heeded  not.     He  would   breathe   the  fresli,   uji- 


146  A  MALAYAN  PRISON 

tainted  air  once  more,  would  see  once  again  the  sky 
arching  above  him,  would  hear  the  murmur  of  run- 
ning water,  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  the  fruit 
trees  and  its  stir  among  the  fronds — would  be  quit 
for  a  space  of  the  horrors  and  the  putrefaction  of  his 
surroundings,  and  would  see,  smell,  hear,  and  enjoy 
all  the  sights,  scents,  sounds,  and  familiar  things  for 
which  he  hungered  with  so  sick  a  longing. 

Accordingly,  the  chief  having  been  communicated 
with,  he  was  one  day  taken  upriver  to  the  place  ho 
had  named;  but  the  reek  of  the  cage  clung  to  him, 
and  the  fresh  air  was  to  him  made  foul  by  it.  The 
search  was  fruitless,  of  course;  he  was  beaten  by  the 
boatmen,  who  had  had  their  trouble  for  nothing; 
and,  sore  and  bleeding,  he  was  placed  once  more  in 
his  cage,  with  the  added  pain  of  heavy  chains  to 
complete  his  sufiFerings.  An  iron  collar  was  riveted 
about  his  neck,  and  attached  by  ponderous  links  to 
chains  passed  about  his  waist  and  to  rings  around  his 
ankles.  The  fetters  galled  him,  preventing  him  from 
lying  at  ease  in  any  attitude,  and  they  speedily 
doubled  the  number  of  his  bed-sores.  The  noisy, 
bloated  flies  buzzed  around  him  now  in  ever-increas- 
ing numbers,  feasting  horribly  upon  his  rottenness,  as 
he  sat  all  day  sunken  in  stupid,  wide-eyed  despair. 

A  Chinese  lunatic  had  been  placed  in  the  vacant 
cage  on  his  left — a  poor  mindless  wretch  who  cried 
out  to  all  who  visited  the  prison  that  he  had  become  a 
Muhammadan,  vainly  hoping  thereby  to  meet  witli 
some  small  measure  of  pity  from  the  worshippers  of 
Allah,  the  merciful  and  compassionate  God.     Tht 


A  MALAYAN  PRISON  U7 

bestial  habits  of  this  man,  whose  mental  disease  was 
intensified  by  his  misery  and  by  the  disgusting  char- 
acter of  his  environment,  imported  a  new  horror 
into  Talib's.  life ;  but  he  himself  was  fast  sinking  into 
the  stolid,  animal  existence  of  his  right-hand  neigh- 
bour. I  saw  him,  precisely  as  I  have  described  him, 
and  learned  his  story,  in  April,  1895,  and  since  the 
state  in  which  he  was  awaiting  his  lingering  death  was 
at  that  time  independent,  I  was,  of  course,  powerless 
to  effect  his  deliverance.  Of  his  end  I  know  nothing, 
but  his  future  held  no  prospect  of  release,  and  the 
best  that  one  could  hope  for  him  was  an  early  death, 
or  failing  that,  a  speedy  arrival  at  the  happy  condi- 
tion which  is  locally  called  kdleh.  To  add  to  the 
horror  of  it  all,  there  were  two  women  and  one  small 
child  confined  in  the  cages  at  the  time  of  my  visit, 
hut  upon  their  sufferings  I  have  refrained  from 
dwelling. 

Readers  of  this  true  tale  will  perhaps  realize  how 
it  comes  to  pass  that  some  of  us  men  of  the  out- 
skirLs — who  have  seen  things,  not  merely  heard  oj 
them — are  apt  to  become  rather  strong  "imperial- 
ists," and  to  find  it  at  times  difficult  to  endure  with 
patience  those  ardent  defenders  of  the  Rights  of 
^lan,  who  bleet  their  comfortable  aphorisms  in  the 
British  House  of  Commons,  and  cry  shame  upon  our 
"  hungry  acquisitiveness." 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

IF  YOU  put  your  finger  on  the  map  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  an  inch  or  two  from  its  exact  centre, 
you  will  find  a  river  in  Pahang  territory  which 
has  its  rise  in  the  watershed  that  divides  that  state 
from  its  northern  neighbours  Kelantan  and  Treng- 
ganu.  It  is  called  the  Tembeling,  and  after  its 
junction  with  the  Jelai,  at  a  point  some  two  hundred 
inilos  from  the  sea,  the  combined  rivers  are  named 
the  l*ahang.  The  Tembeling  is  chiefly  remarkable 
for  tile  number  and  magnitude  of  its  rapids,  for  the 
richness  of  its  gutta-bearing  trees,  and  iis  being  the 
scene  of  some  of  the  most  notable  exploits  of  the 
legendary  magician  Sang  Kelembai,  whose  last  days 
on  earth  are  supposed  to  have  been  spent  in  this 
valley.  The  inhabitants  of  the  district  were,  in  my 
lime,  a  ruffianly  lot  of  jungle-dwelling  Malays, 
preyed  upon  by  a  ruling  family  of  Wans — a  semi- 
royal  set  ol  nobles,  who  did  their  best  to  live  up  to 
the  traditions  of  their  class.  Chiefs  and  people  alike 
were  rather  specially  interesting  because — though 
of  this  they  had  no  inkling — they  represented  the 
descendants  of  one  of  the  earliest  waves  of  Malay 
invaders  of  the  Peninsula— folk  who  came,  not  from 
Sumatra,  as  did  the  ancestors  of  the  bulk  of  the 
natives  of  Hritish  Malaya,  but  from  the  islands  of 

148 


HE  OF  THE  HAUIY  FACE  141) 

the  Archipelago  further  south.  In  many  locahties 
the  offspring  of  the  earher  invaders  have  resisted 
conversion  to  Muhammadanism,  and  are  regarded 
by  the  Malays  of  to-day  as  part  of  the  aboriginal 
pagan  population  of  the  Peninsula;  but  the  people 
of  the  Tembeling  valley  have  embraced  the  faith  of 
Islam,  and  their  origin  is  not  suspected  by  themselves 
or  their  neighbours.  It  is  clearly  to  be  traced,  how- 
ever, in  certain  peculiar  customs  that  have  been 
preserved  among  them,  and  by  the  use  of  a  few  local 
words,  not  generally  understanded  of  the  people  of 
the  Peninsula,  but  common  enough  in  northern 
Borneo  and  other  parts  of  the  Archipelago. 

The  Tembeling  Valley  is  bisected  by  a  set  of  rapids, 
which  render  navigation  excessively  difficult  for  a 
distance  of  some  five  miles,  and  above  which  large 
boats  cannot  be  taken.  Below  this  obstruction,  the 
natives  are  chiefly  noted  for  the  quaint  pottery  which 
they  produce  from  the  clay  that  abounds  there,  and 
the  rude  shapes  and  the  ruder  tracery  of  their  vessels 
have  probably  suffered  no  change  since  the  days 
when  the  men  who  dealt  with  the  middle  men  who 
trafficked  with  Solomon's  emissaries,  sought  gold 
and  peafowl  and  monkeys  in  the  fastnesses  of  the 
Malay  Peninsula — as  everybody  knows.  Above  the 
rapids  the  natives,  from  time  immemorial,  have 
planted  enough  ganibir  to  supply  the  wants  of  the 
entire  betel-dnnving  population  of  Pahang;  and  as 
the  sale  of  this  commodity  brought  in  a  steady  in- 
come, they  were  for  the  most  part  too  indolent  to 
plant  their  own  rice.     Rice  being  the  staple  of  all 


150  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

Malays,  without  which  they  cannot  live,  the  grain 
used  to  be  sold  to  them  by  dowTicountry  Malays  at 
an  exorbitant  price,  and  the  profits  on  the  gambir 
crop  was  thus  skilfully  diverted  into  the  pouches  of 
wiser  men. 

A  short  distance  upstream  from  the  junction  of  the 
Tembeling  and  the  Jelai,  and  midway  between  that 
[)oint  and  the  big  rapids,  there  is  a  straggling  village 
called  Ranggul,  the  houses  of  which,  built  of  wattled 
bamboos  and  thatched  with  palm  leaves,  stand  on 
piles  upon  the  river  bank,  amid  groves  of  cocoanut 
and  areca-nut  palms,  fruit  trees  and  clumps  of  smooth- 
'eaved  banana  plants.  The  houses  are  not  set 
very  close  together,  but  a  man  calling  can  make 
himself  heard  with  ease  from  one  to  another;  and« 
thus  the  cocoanut  palms  thrive,  for  they,  the  Malays 
aver,  grow  not  with  pleasure  beyond  the  range  of 
%e  human  voice. 

The  people  of  Ranggul  are  no  more  indolent  than 
other  upcountry  Malays.  They  plant  a  little  rice 
in  the  swamp  behind  the  village,  when  the  sea- 
son comes  round.  They  work  a  little  jungle-prod- 
uce— rubber,  rattans,  ddmar-p'itch,  and  the  like 
— when  the  pinch  of  poverty  drives  them  to  it. 
The  river  is,  of  course,  their  princij)al  highway,  and 
they  never  walk  if  a  boat  will  take  tliem  to  their 
destination.  For  the  rest,  they  take  life  very  easily. 
If  you  chance  to  visit  Ranggul  during  any  of  the  hot 
hours  of  the  day,  you  will  find  most  of  its  male 
inhabitants  lying  about  in  their  dark,  cool  houses,  or 
seate<l  in  tlieir  doorways.     They  occupy  themselves 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  151 

with  such  gentle  tasks  as  whittling  a  stick  or  hacking 
aimlessly  at  the  already  deepl}^  scored  threshold- 
block  with  their  heavy  wood-knives.  Sitting  thus, 
they  croak  snatches  of  song,  with  some  old-world 
refrain  to  it,  breaking  off,  from  time  to  time,  to 
throw  a  remark  over  their  shoulders  to  the  women- 
folk, who  share  the  dim  interiors  of  the  huts  with  the 
cats,  the  babies,  and  the  cooking-pots,  or  to  the  little 
virgin  daughter*  carefully  secreted  on  the  shelf  over- 
head amid  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  dusty  rub- 
bish, the  disused  lumber  of  years.  Here  the  maiden 
is  securely  hidden  from  the  sight  of  the  passing  neigh- 
bour, who  stops  to  gossip  with  the  master  of  the 
house,  and  sits  for  a  space,  propped  upon  the  stair- 
ladder,  lazily  masticating  a  quid  of  betel  nut.  Na- 
ture has  been  very  lavish  to  the  Malay,  and  has  pro- 
vided him  with  a  soil  that  produces  a  maximum  of 
food  in  return  for  a  minimum  of  grudging  labour; 
but,  rightly  viewed,  he  has  suffered  at  her  hands  an 
eternal  defeat.  In  the  tropics,  no  less  than  in  the 
arctic  regions.  Nature  has  proved  too  strong  a 
competitor  for  mankind.  In  the  latter  she  has  forced 
men  to  hibern^ite,  paralyzing  their  energies  for  more 
than  half  the  year;  in  the  former,  she  has  rushed  in  to 
obliterate  the  works  of  human  beings  with  so  ap- 
palling a  rapidity,  if  for  a  moment  tiieir  efforts  to 
withstand  her  have  been  relaxed,  that  here,  too,  they 
have  abandoned  the  unequal  contest.  In  the  far 
north  and  in  the  tropics  alike,  it  is  men  drawn  from 
temperate  climates,  where  they  have  learned  to  bend 
Nature  in  her  weaker  phases  to  their  will,  who  have 


152  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

come  to  renew  the  struggle  with  weapons  which  thej 
have  wrested  from  the  enemy  in  the  course  of  the  age- 
long conflict.  But  in  neither  instance  can  the  new- 
comers look  for  active  assistance  from  the  people  of 
the  lands  they  have  invaded.  The  cool,  moist  fruit 
groves  of  Malaya  woo  men  to  the  lazy  enjoyment  of 
their  ease  during  the  parching  hours  of  midday,  and 
the  native,  who  long  ago  has  retired  from  the  fight 
with  Nature,  and  now  is  quite  content  to  subsist  upon 
her  bounty,  has  caught  the  spirit  of  his  surroundings, 
and  is  very  much  what  environment  and  circum- 
stances have  combined  to  make  him.  Those  of  us 
who  cry  shame  upon  the  peoples  of  the  tropics  for 
their  inertia  would  do  well  to  ponder  these  things, 
and  should  realize  that  energy  is  to  the  natives  of  the 
heat-belt  at  once  a  disturbing  and  a  disgusting 
quality.  It  is  disturbing  because  it  runs  counter  to 
the  order  of  Nature  which  these  people  have  ac- 
cepted. It  is  disgusting  because  it  is  opposed  to 
every  tenet  of  their  philosophy. 

Some  five  and  fifty  years  ago,  when  Che'  Wan 
Ahmad — who  subsequently  was  better  known  as  Sul- 
tan Ahmad  ]VIaatham  Shah  K.  C.  M.  G. — was  col- 
lecting his  forces  in  Dilngun,  preparatory  to  nuiking 
his  last  and  successful  descent  into  the  Tembeling 
Valley,  whence  to  overrun  and  conquer  Pahang, 
the  night  wjis  closing  in  at  Ranggid.  A  large  house 
stood  at  that  time  in  a  somewhat  isolated  position, 
within  a  thickly  planted  compound,  at  one  extremity 
of  the  village.     In  this  house  seven  men  and  two 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  153 

women  were  at  work  on  the  evening  meal.  The  men 
sat  in  the  centre  of  the  floor  on  a  white  mat  made  of 
the  plaited  leaves  of  the  mengkuang  palm,  with  a 
plate  piled  with  rice  before  each  of  them,  and  a  brass 
tray,  supporting  nunlerous  small  china  bowls  of  curry, 
placed  where  all  could  reach  it.  They  sat  cross- 
legged,  with  bowed  backs,  resting  their  weight  upon 
their  left  arms,  the  hands  of  which  lay  flat  on  the 
floor,  with  the  WTists  so  turned  that  the  fingers 
pointed  inward.  They  messed  the  rice  with  their 
right  hands,  mixing  the  curry  well  into  it,  and  ex- 
pressing the  air  between  grain  and  grain,  ere  they 
carried  each  large  ball  of  it  swiftly  to  their  mouths, 
and  propelled  it  into  them  with  their  thumbs  along 
the  surfaces  of  their  hollowed  and  closely  joined 
fingers.  If  rice  is  your  staple,  it  is  almost  a  necessity 
that  you  should  eat  it  in  this  fashion,  for  when  a 
spoon  is  used  it  is  aerated,  windy  stuff  of  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  consume  a  sufficient  quantity.  As  for  the 
cleanliness  of  the  thing,  a  ]Malay  once  remarked  to  me 
that  he  could  be  sure  that  his  fingers  had  not  been 
inside  the  mouths  of  other  folk,  but  had  no  such  feel- 
ing of  certainty  with  regard  to  the  spoons  of  Euro- 
peans. 

The  women  sat  demurely  in  a  half-kneeling  i>osi- 
tion,  with  their  feet  tucked  away  under  them,  minis- 
tering to  the  wants  of  the  men.  They  uttered  no 
word,  save  an  occasional  exclamation  when  they  drove 
away  a  lean  cat  that  crept  too  near  to  the  food,  and 
the  men  also  held  their  peace.  Malays  regard  meals 
as  a   serious  business  which   is  best  transacted   in 


154  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

silence.  From  without  there  came  the  hum  of  insects, 
the  chirping  of  crickets  in  the  fruit  trees,  and  the 
deep,  monotonous  note  of  the  bullfrogs  in  the  rice- 
swamps. 

AVhen  the  men  had  finished  their  meal,  the  women 
carried  the  dishes  to  a  corner  near  the  fireplace,  and 
there  set  to  on  such  of  the  viands  as  their  lords  had 
not  consumed.  If  you  had  looked  carefully,  however, 
you  would  have  seen  that  the  cooking-pots,  over 
which  the  women  presided,  still  held  a  secret  store 
reserved  for  their  own  use,  and  that  the  quality  of  the 
food  in  this  cache  was  by  no  means  inferior  to  that  of 
the  portion  which  had  been  allotted  to  the  men.  In 
a  land  where  women  wait  upon  themselves,  labour 
for  others,  and  have  none  to  attend  to  their  wants 
or  io  forestall  their  wishes,  they  generally  develop  a 
sound  working  notion  of  how  to  look  after  themselves; 
and  since  they  have  never  known  a  state  of  society, 
such  as  our  own,  in  which  women  occupy  a  special 
and  privileged  position,  it  does  not  occur  to  them 
that  they  are  the  victims  of  male  oppression. 

Each  of  the  men  had  meanwhile  folded  a  lime- 
smeared  leaf  of  the  sirih-vine  into  a  neat,  oblong 
packet,  within  which  was  enclosetl  parings  of  the 
belel  nut  and  a  fragment  or  two  of  prepared  gambir, 
taking  the  ingredients  of  tlieir  (juids  from  the  little 
brass  boxes  in  the  clumsy  wooden  box  that  lay  before 
them  on  the  mat.  Next  they  had  rolled  a  pinch  of 
Javanese  tobacco — potent  stuff  which  grips  you  by 
the  throat  as  though  you  were  a  personal  enemy — 
in  a  dried  shoot  of  the  tn pah -pahn,  had  lighted  these 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  l.>r> 

improvised  cigarettes  at  the  ddmar-torch.  which  pro- 
vided the  only  Hght,  and  at  last  had  broken  the  silence 
which  so  long  had  held  them. 

The  talk  flitted  lightly  over  many  subjects,  all  of 
a  concrete  character;  for  talk  among  natives  plays 
for  the  most  part  around  facts,  rarely  around  ideas, 
and  the  peace  of  soul  induced  by  repletion  is  not 
stimulating  to  the  mind.  Che'  Seman,  the  owner  of 
the  house,  and  his  two  sons,  Awang  and  Ngah,  dis- 
cussed the  prospects  of  the  crops  then  growing  in  the 
fields  behind  the  village.  Their  cousin,  Abdullah, 
who  chanced  to  be  passing  the  night  in  his  relatives' 
house,  told  of  a  fall  which  his  wife's  step-mother's 
brother  had  come  by  when  climbing  a  cocoanut  tree. 
Mat,  his  biras  (for  they  had  married  two  sisters, 
wlu'ch  established  a  definite  relationship  between 
them  according  to  ^Nlalay  ideas),  added  a  few  more  or 
less  repulsive  details  to  Abdullah's  description  of  the 
corpse  after  the  accident.  These  were  well  received, 
and  attracted  the  attention  of  the  two  remaining 
men,  Potek  and  Kassim,  who  had  been  discussing 
the  price  of  rice  and  the  varying  chances  of  gctah- 
hunting;  whereupon  the  talk  became  general.  Potek 
and  Kassim  had  recently  come  across  the  mountains 
fi'om  Dimgun,  in  Trengganu,  where  the  claimant  to 
the  sultanate  of  Pahang  was  at  that  time  collecting 
the  force,  which  later  invaded  and  conquered  the 
(•ountr\-.  They  told  all  that  they  had  seen  and 
heard,  multiplying  their  figures  witli  the  daring- 
recklessness  common  to  a  people  who  rarely  regard 
arithmetic  as  one  of  the  exact  sciences;  but  eveu  this 


156  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

absorbing  topic  could  not  hold  the  attention  of  their 
audience  for  long.  Before  Potek  and  Kassim  had 
well  finished  the  enumeration  of  the  parts  of  heavj' 
artillery,  the  hundreds  of  elephants  and  the  thou- 
sands of.  the  followers,  with  which  they  credited  the 
adventurous  but  slender  bands  of  ragamuflSns  who 
followed  the  fortunes  of  Che'  Wan  Ahmad,  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house  broke  into  their  talk  with  words  on  a 
subject  which  just  then  had  a  more  immediate  in- 
terest than  any  other  for  the  people  of  the  Tembeling 
Valley.  Thus  the  conversation  slipped  back  into  the 
rut  in  which  the  talk  of  the  countryside  had  run, 
with  only  casual  interruptions,  for  many  weeks. 

"He  of  the  Hairy  Face*  is  with  us  once  more," 
Che'  Seman  suddenly  announced;  and  when  his 
words  had  caused  a  dead  silence  to  fall  upon  his 
hearers,  and  had  even  stilled  the  chatter  of  the 
women  and  children  near  the  fireplace,  he  continued : 

"At  the  hour  when  the  cicada  becomes  nois3%t 
I  met  Imam  Sidik  of  Gemuroh,  and  bade  him  staj' 
to  eat  rice,  but  he  would  not,  saying  that  He  of  the 
Hairy  Face  had  made  his  kill  at  Labu  yesternight, 
and  tliat  it  was  expedient  for  all  men  to  be  within 


*Si-Pudong — He  of  the  Hairy  Face — is  one  of  the  names  used  by  jungle-bred 
Malays  to  describe  a  tiger.  They  will  not  use  the  beast's  ordinary  name,  lest  the 
sound  of  it  should  reach  his  ears,  and  cause  him  to  come  to  the  speaker. 

\When  the  cicada  becomes  noisy — sunset.  The  Malays  use  many  such  phrases 
to  indicate  the  time  of  day,  e.  g.:  When  the  fowls  jump  ojj  their  perches,  about  5:30 
A.M.;  Before  the  flies  are  on  the  wing,  al)out  (>  A.M.;  Wlien  the  heat  breaks  forth, 
about  7  A.M.;  When  the  sun  is  halfway  up,  alx)ut  9  a.m.;  When  the  plough  is  idle^ 
from  9:30  to  about  11  a.m.;  When  the  shadows  are  circular,  noon;  When  th4  day 
changes,  viz.,  from  morning  to  afternoon,  about  1  p.m.;  When  the  buffaloes  go  down 
tu  water,  an  hour  before  sunset,  «.  e..  about  5  P.M.;  When  the  fowls  begin  to  dost, 
ihf  beginning  of  night;    When  the  children  are  fast  asleep,  about  9  P.M. 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  157 

their  houses  before  the  darkness  fell.  And  so  saying, 
he  paddled  his  boat  down  stream,  using  the  "dove" 
stroke.*  Imam  Sidik  is  a  wise  man,  and  his  talk 
is  true.  He  of  the  Hairy  Face  spares  neither  priest 
nor  prince.  The  girl  he  killed  at  Labu  was  a  daughter 
of  the  Wans — Wan  Esah  was  her  name." 

"That  makes  three-and-twenty  whom  He  of  the 
Hairy  Face  had  slain  in  one  year  of  maize,"t  said 
Awang,  in  a  low,  fear-stricken  voice.  "He  toucheth 
neither  goats  nor  kine,  and  men  say  he  sucketh  more 
blood  than  he  eateth  flesh." 

"It  is  that  that  proves  him  to  be  the  Thing  he  is," 
said  Ngah. 

"Your  words  are  true,"  said  Che'  Seman  solemnly. 
"He  of  the  Hairy  Face  was  in  the  beginning  a  man 
like  other  men — a  Semang,  a  negrit  of  the  woods. 
Because  of  his  cruelty  and  his  iniquities  and  the 
malignity  of  his  magic,  his  own  people  drove  him 
forth  from  among  them,  and  now  he  lives  solitary 
in  the  jungles,  and  by  night  transforms  himself  into 
the  shape  of  Him  of  the  Hairy  Face,  and  feasts  upon 
the  flesh  of  human  beings.  This  is  a  fact  well  known 
and  attested." 

"It  is  said  that  it  is  only  the  men  of  Korinchi  who 
possess  this  art,"  interposed  Abdullah,  in  the  tone  of 
one  who  seeks  to  be  reassured. 

"They  also  practise  magic  of  a  like  kind,"  rejoined 

*The  "dove"  stroke  is  a  very  rapid  stroke  made  with  the  paddle  lifted  high 
in  the  air,  and  driven  into  the  water  and  drawn  back  with  great  force.  It  is  always 
used  for  the  finish  of  a  canoe-race.     The  origin  of  the  term  is  unknown. 

tA  year  of  maize — three  months:  a  year  of  rice — six  months;  a  year,  without 
itny  qualification,  is  the  Muhammadan  year  of  twelve  months  of  thirty  days  ejfh 


158  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

Seman.  "But  it  is  certain  that  He  of  the  Hairy 
Face  was  in  the  beginning  a  Semang — a  negrit  of  the 
woods;  and  when  he  goeth  abroad  in  human  guise, 
he  is  Hke  all  other  Semang  to  look  upon.  I  and  many 
others  have  come  upon  him,  now  and  again,  when  we 
have  been  in  the  forests  seeking  for  jungle-produce. 
He  is  old  and  wrinkled  and  very  dirty,  covered  with 
skin  disease,  as  with  a  white  garment;  and  he  roameth 
alone  naked  and  muttering  to  himself.  When  he 
spies  men  he  makes  haste  to  hide  himself;  and  all 
folk  know  that  it  is  He  who  harries  us  by  night  in  our 
villages.  If  we  venture  forth  from  our  houses  during 
the  hours  of  darkness,  to  the  bathing-raft  at  the 
river's  edge,  to  tend  our  sick,  or  to  visit  a  friend, 
Si-Piidong  is  ever  to  be  found  watching,  and  thus  the 
tale  of  his  kill  waxeth  longer  and  longer." 

"But  at  least  men  are  safe  from  him  while  they  sit 
within  their  houses,"  said  Mat. 

"God  alone  knoweth,"  answered  Che'  Seman 
piously.  "Who  can  say  where  safety  abides  when 
He  of  the  Hairy  Face  is  seeking  to  glut  his  appetites.^ 
He  Cometh  like  a  shadow,  slays  like  a  prince,  and  then 
like  a  shadow  he  is  gone.  And  ever  the  tale  of  his 
kills  waxeth  longer  and  yet  more  long.  May  God 
send  Him  very  far  away  from  us!  Ya  Allah!  It  is 
He,  even  now!     Listen!" 

At  tlio  word  a  dead  silence,  broken  only  by  the  hard 
breathing  of  the  men  and  women,  fell  u])on  all  within 
the  house.  Then  very  faintly,  and  far  away  up- 
stream, but  not  so  faintly  but  that  all  could  hear  it, 
as  they  llsl<Mied  with  straining  ears  and   suspended 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  159 

heart-beats,  the  long-drawn,  howHng,  snarhng  moan  of 
a  hungry  tiger  rose  and  fell  above  the  murmur  of 
the  insect-world  without.  The  Malays  call  the  roar 
of  the  tiger  diim,  and  as  they  pronounce  it,  the  word 
is  vividly  onomatopoetic,  as  those  of  us  who  have 
heard  it  in  lonely  jungle  places  during  the  silent 
night  watches  can  bear  witness.  All  who  have  lis- 
tened to  the  tiger  in  his  forest  freedom  know  that  he 
has  many  voices.  He  can  give  a  barking  cry,  which 
is  not  unlike  that  of  a  deer;  he  can  grunt  like  a 
startled  boar,  and  squeak  like  the  monkeys  cowering 
and  chattering  at  his  approach  in  the  branches  over- 
head; he  can  shake  the  earth  with  a  vibrating, 
resonant  purr,  like  the  sound  of  distant  thunder  in 
the  foothills;  he  can  mew  and  snarl  like  an  angry 
wildcat;  and  he  can  roar  almost  like  a  lion.  But  it 
is  when  he  lifts  his  voice  in  the  long-drawn  moan 
that  the  men  and  beasts  of  the  jungle  chiefly  fear  him. 
This  cry  means  that  he  is  hungry,  but  also  that  he  is 
so  sure  of  his  kill  that  he  cares  not  if  all  the  world 
knows  that  his  belly  is  empty.  There  is  in  its  note 
something  strangely  horrible,  for  it  is  as  though  the 
cold-blooded,  dispassionate  cruelty,  peculiar  to  the 
feline  race,  has  in  it  become  suddenly  articulate. 
These  sleek,  glossy-skinned,  soft-footed,  lithe,  almost 
serpentine  creatures  torture  with  a  grace  of  move- 
ment and  gentleness  in  strength  which  have  in  them 
something  infinitely  more  terror-inspiring  than  the 
blundering  charge  and  savage  goring  of  the  gaur,  or 
the  clumsy  tramplings  and  kneadings  with  which  the 
elephant  destroys  its  victims. 


160  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

Again  the  long-drawn  moan  broke  upon  the  still- 
ness. The  water-buffaloes  in  the  byre  heard  it,  and 
were  panic-stricken.  Mad  with  fear  they  charged 
the  walls  of  their  pen,  bearing  all  before  them,  and 
a  moment  later  could  be  heard  plunging  wildly 
through  the  brushwood  and  splashing  through  the 
soft  mud  of  the  pddi-^e\ds,  the  noise  of  their  stampede 
growing  fainter  and  fainter  with  distance.  The  lean 
curs,  suddenly  awakened,  whimpered  miserably  and 
scampered  off  in  every  direction,  while  the  sleepy 
fowls,  beneath  the  flooring  of  the  house,  set  up  a 
drowsy  and  discordant  screeching.  The  folk  within 
were  too  terror-stricken  to  speak;  for  extremity  of 
fear,  which  lends  voices  to  the  animal  world,  renders 
voluble  human  beings  dumb.  And  all  this  while 
the  cry  of  the  tiger  broke  out  again  and  again,  ever 
louder  and  louder,  as  He  of  the  Hairy  Face  drew 
nearer  and  yet  more  near. 

At  last  it  sounded  within  the  very  compound  in 
which  the  house  stood,  and  its  sudden  proximity 
caused  Mat  to  start  so  violently  that  he  overturned 
with  his  elbow  the  pitch-torch  at  his  side,  and  ex- 
tinguished the  flickering  light.  The  women,  their 
teeth  chattering  like  castanets,  crowded  up  against 
the  men,  seeking  comfort  in  physical  contact  with 
them.  The  men  gripped  their  spears,  and  squatted 
trembling  in  the  half-light  cast  by  the  dying  embers 
of  the  Are,  and  by  the  flecks  cast  upon  floor  and  wall 
l)y  the  moonbeams  struggling  through  the  interstices 
of  the  wattling  and  the  thatch  of  the  roof. 

"Fear  not,  Minah,"  Che'  Seman  whis])ered,  in  a 


HE  OF  THE  HATRY  FACE  1G1 

hoarse,  strained  voice,  to  his  little  daughter,  who 
nestled  quaking  against  his  breast.  "In  a  space 
He  will  be  gone.  Even  He  of  the  Hairy  Face  will 
do  us  no  hurt  while  we  sit  within  the  house." 

Che"  Seman  spoke  with  his  judgment  supported  by 
the  experience  of  many  generations  of  Malays;  but 
he  knew  not  the  nature  of  the  strange  animal  with 
which  he  was  now  confronted.  Once  more  the  moan- 
like howl  set  the  still  air  vibrating,  but  this  time  its 
note  had  changed,  and  gradually  it  quickened  to  the 
ferocious,  snarling  roar,  which  is  the  charge-song  of 
the  tiger,  as  the  beast  rushed  at  the  house  and  flung 
itself  against  the  bamboo  wall  with  a  heavy,  jarring 
thud.  A  shriek  from  all  the  seven  distraught 
wretches  within  went  up  on  the  instant;  and  then 
came  a  scratching,  tearing  soimd,  followed  by  a  soft 
flop,  as  the  tiger,  failing  to  effect  a  landing  on  the  low 
roof,  fell  back  to  earth.  The  men  leaped  to  their 
feet,  clutching  their  weapons  convulsively,  bewildered 
by  fear  and  by  the  darkness;  and  led  by  Che'  Seman, 
they  raised  «Vjove  the  wailing  of  the  women,  a 
quavering,  half-hearted  sorak — the  Malayan  war- 
cry,  which  is  designed  as  much  to  put  courage  into 
those  who  utter  it,  as  to  dismay  the  enemy  whom  it 
defies. 

Mat,  the  man  who  had  upset  the  torch,  alone 
failed  to  add  his  voice  to  the  lamentable  outcry  of  his 
fellows.  Seeking  to  hide  himself  from  the  raging 
brute  without,  he  crept,  unobserved  l)y  the  others, 
up  into  tlie  shelfiike  loft,  in  which  Muiah  had  been 
wont  to  sit,  when  strangers  were  about,  during  the 


102  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

short  days  of  her  virginity.  This  place  consisted  of  a 
platform  of  stout  laths  suspended  from  the  roof  in 
one  corner  of  the  house,  and  amidst  the  dusty  lumber 
that  filled  it,  Mat  now  cowered,  sweating  with  terror. 

A  minute  or  two  of  silence  and  of  sickening  sus- 
pense followed  the  tiger's  first  unsuccessful  charge. 
But  presently  the  howl  broke  forth  anew,  quickened 
rapidly  to  the  charge-roar,  and  again  the  house  shook 
beneath  the  impact  as  the  weight  of  the  great  animal 
was  hurled  at  it.  This  time  the  leap  of  Him  of  the 
Hairy  Face  had  been  judged  more  surely;  and  a  crash 
overhead,  a  shower  of  leaflets  of  thatch,  and  an  omi- 
nous creaking  of  the  beams  apprised  the  cowering  folk 
within  the  house  that  their  enemy  had  secured  a 
foothold  on  the  roof. 

The  fragmentary,  throaty  sorak,  which  Che'  Seman 
had  urged  his  companions  to  raise,  died  away  into  a 
sobbing  silence,  disturbed  only  by  the  sound  of 
breaths  drawn  thickly  and  by  the  hysterical  weeping 
of  the  women.  Then  all  were  smitten  with  dumb- 
ness, as  gazing  upward  in  awful  fascination,  they  saw 
the  thatch  torn  violently  apart  by  the  great  claws  of 
the  tiger.  There  were  no  firearms  in  the  house,  but 
instinctively  the  men  clutched  their  spears,  and  held 
them  in  readiness  to  resist  the  descent  of  their  assail- 
ant; and  thus  for  a  moment  all  remained  spellbound, 
with  their  eyes  fastened  upon  the  horror  above  them. 
A  flood  of  moonlight,  infinitely  quiet  and  peaceful, 
poured  in  upon  them  through  the  yawning  gap  in  the 
thatch,  and  against  it  the  immense,  square  head  of 
Him  of  the  Hairy   Face  was  darkly   outlined,   the 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  163 

black  bars  on  the  brute's  hide,  the  flaming  eyes,  and 
the  long  cruel  teeth  being  plainly  visible,  framed  in 
the  hole  which  its  claws  had  made. 

The  timbers  of  the  roof  bent  and  cracked  anew 
under  the  unwonted  weight,  and  then,  with  the 
agility  of  a  cat,  He  of  the  Hairy  Face  leaped  lightly 
down,  and  was  in  among  them  befofe  they  knew. 
The  striped  hide  was  slightly  wounded  by  the  up- 
thrust  spears,  but  the  shock  of  the  beast's  leap  bore 
all  who  had  resisted  it  to  the  floor.  The  tiger  never 
stayed  to  use  its  jaws.  It  sat  up,  much  in  the  atti- 
tude of  a  kitten  playing  with  a  ball  of  worsted  dangled 
before  its  eyes,  and  striking  out  rapidly  and  with 
unerring  aim,  speedily  disposed  of  all  its  victims. 
Che'  Seman  and  his  two  sons,  Awang  and  Ngah, 
were  the  first  to  fall.  Then  tang,  Che'  Seman's 
wife,  was  flung  reeling  backward  against  the  wall 
with  her  skull  crushed  out  of  all  resemblance  to  any 
human  member  by  a  single,  playful  buffet  from  one  of 
those  mighty  pads.  Kassim,  Potek,  and  Abdullah 
fell  before  the  tiger  in  quick  succession;  and  Minah, 
the  little  girl  who  had  nestled  against  her  father  for 
protection,  lay  now  beneath  his  body,  sorely  wounded, 
almost  demented  by  terror,  but  still  alive  and  con- 
scious. Mat,  cowering  on  the  shelf  overhead,  and 
gazing  fascinated  at  the  carnage  going  on  below  him, 
was  the  only  inmate  of  the  house  who  remained  un- 
injured. 

He  of  the  Hairy  Face  killed  quickly  and  silently 
while  there  were  yet  some  ahve  to  resist  him.  Then, 
purring  gently,  he  passed  from  one  crumpled  form 


164  HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE 

to  the  other,  sucking  at  the  blood  of  each  of  his  vic- 
tims, after  the  manner  of  a  mongoose.  At  last  he 
reached  the  body  of  Che'  Seman;  and  Minah,  seeing 
him  draw  near,  made  a  feeble  effort  to  evade  him. 
He  pounced  upon  her  like  a  flash,  and  then,  under  the 
eyes  of  the  horrified  Mat,  an  appalling  scene  was 
enacted.  The  tiger  played  with  and  tortured  the 
girl,  precisely  as  we  have  all  seen  a  cat  treat  a  maimed 
mouse.  Again  and  again  Minah  crawled  laboriously 
away,  only  to  be  drawn  back  by  her  tormentor  when 
he  seemed  at  last  to  have  exhausted  his  interest  in 
her.  At  times  she  lay  still  in  a  paralysis  of  inertia, 
only  to  be  goaded  into  agonized  motion  once  more 
by  a  touch  of  the  tiger's  claws.  Yet,  so  cunningly 
did  he  manipulate  his  victim,  that — as  Mat  after- 
ward described  it— "a  time  sufficient  to  enable  a 
pot  of  rice  to  be  cooked"  elapsed  ere  the  girl  was 
finally  put  out  of  her  misery. 

Even  then,  He  of  the  Hairy  Face  did  not  quit  the 
scene  of  shiughter.  Mat,  lying  prone  upon  the  shelf, 
watched  him  through  the  long  hours  of  that  night  of 
terror,  playing  with  the  mangled  corpses  of  each  of 
his  victims  in  turn.  He  leaped  from  one  to  the  other, 
apparently  trying  to  cheat  himself  into  the  belief 
that  the\^  still  lived,  inflicting  upon  them  a  series  of 
fresh  wounds  with  teeth  and  claws.  The  moonlight, 
pouring  through  the  torn  thatch,  revealed  him  frol- 
icking among  tlie  dead  with  all  the  airy,  light- 
liearted  agility  and  grace  of  a  kitten  playing  with  its 
own  shadow  on  a  sunny  lawn;  and  it  was  not  until 
the  dawn  was  beginning  to  break  that  he  tore  down 


HE  OF  THE  HAIRY  FACE  165 

the  door,  leaped  easily  to  the  ground,  and  betook 
himself  to  the  jungle. 

When  the  sun  was  up,  an  armed  party  of  neigh- 
bours came  to  the  house  to  see  if  aught  could  be  done 
to  aid  its  occupants.  They  found  the  place  a  sham- 
bles, the  bodies  hardly  to  be  recognized,  the  floor- 
laths  dripping  blood,  and  Mat  lying  face-downward 
on  the  shelf,  with  his  reason  tottering  in  the  balance. 
The  corpses,  though  they  had  been  horribly  mutilated, 
liad  not  been  eaten,  the  tiger  having  contented 
liimself  w4th  drinking  the  blood  of  his  victims,  and 
playing  his  ghastly  game  with  them  till  daybreak 
interrupted  him. 

This  is,  I  believe,  the  only  well-authenticated  in- 
stance of  a  tiger  attacking  men  within  their  closed 
house  in  the  heart  of  a  Malayan  village;  and  the 
circumstances  are  so  remarkable  in  every  way,  that 
it  is  perhaps  only  natural  that  the  natives  of  Pahang 
should  attribute  the  fearlessness  of  mankind,  and 
the  lust  of  blood  displayed  by  Him  of  the  Hairy 
Face,  to  the  fact  that  he  was  no  ordinary  wild  beast, 
but  a  member  of  the  human  family  who,  by  means  of 
magic  agencies,  had  assumed  a  tiger's  shape,  the 
better  to  prey  upon  his  kind. 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

IN  A  large  Sakai  camp  on  the  banks  of  the 
upper  reaches  of  the  Jelai  River,  at  a  point 
some  miles  above  the  last  of  the  scattered 
Malay  villages,  the  annual  harvest  home  was  being 
held  one  autumn  night  in  the  year  of  grace  1893. 
The  occasion  of  the  feast  was  the  same  as  that  which 
all  tillers  of  the  soil  are  wont  to  celebrate  with  bucolic 
rejoicings,  when  the  year's  crop  has  been  got  in;  and 
the  name  which  I  have  applied  to  it  awakens  the 
perennial  nostalgia  of  the  exile  by  conjuring  up  the 
picture  of  many  a  long  summer  day  in  the  quiet 
country  at  Home.  Again,  in  imagination,  he  watches 
the  loaded  farm-wains  labouring  over  the  grass  or 
lumbering  down  the  leafy  lanes;  again  the  scent  oi 
the  hay  is  in  his  nostrils,  and  the  soft  English  gloam- 
ing— so  delicious  by  contrast  with  the  short-livetl 
twilight  of  the  tropics — is  lingering  over  the  land. 
The  reapers  astride  upon  the  load  exchange  their 
barbarous  badinage  with  those  who  follow  afoot; 
the  pleasant  glow  of  health,  that  follows  upon  a  long 
day  of  hard  work  in  the  open  air,  warms  the  blood; 
and  in  the  eyes  of  all  is  the  light  of  expectation,  born 
of  the  thought  of  the  good  red  meat,  and  the  lashings 
of  ale  and  cider,  awaiting  them  at  the  farmhouse 
two  miles  across  the  meadows. 

IGQ 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    W7 

But  in  the  distant  Sakai  country  the  harvest  home 
has  Httle  in  common  with  such  scenes  as  these. 
The  rice-crop  planted  in  the  clearing  in  the  forest, 
hard  by  the  spot  in  which  the  camp  is  pitched,  has 
been  reaped  laboriously  in  the  native  fashion,  each 
ear  being  severed  from  its  stalk  separately  and  by 
hand.  Then,  after  many  days,  the  grain  has  at  last 
been  stored  in  the  big  circular  boxes,  formed  of  the 
bark  of  a  giant  tree,  and  securely  thatched  with 
palm  leaves;  and  the  Sakai  women,  who  throughout 
have  performed  the  lion's  share  of  the  work,  are  set 
to  husk  some  portions  of  it  for  the  evening  meal. 
This  they  do  with  clumsy  wooden  pestels,  held  as 
they  stand  around  a  troughlike  mortar  fashioned 
from  the  same  material,  the  ding-dong -ding  of  the 
pounders  carrying  far  and  wide  through  the  forest. 
At  the  joyful  sound,  all  wanderers  from  the  camp — 
whose  inhabitants  have  for  months  been  subsisting 
upon  roots  and  berries — turn  their  faces  homeward 
with  the  eagerness  bred  of  empty  stomachs  and  the 
prospect  of  a  long-expected  surfeit.  The  rice  is 
boiled  in  cooking-pots,  manufactured  in  Europe  and 
sold  to  them  by  the  Malays,  if  the  tribe  be  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  possess  such  luxuries;  otherwise  a  length  of 
bamboo  is  used,  fOr  that  marvellous  vegetable 
growth  is  madie  to  serve  every  concei^'able  purpose 
by  the  natives  of  the  far  interior  of  the  Peninsula. 

The  fat,  new  rice  is  sweet  to  eat,  for  when  freshly 
reaped,  its  natural,  oleaginous  properties  have  not 
yet  evaporated.  It  differs  as  widely  from  the  parched 
and  arid  stuff  you  know  in  Europe  as  does  the  butter 


168     THE  FUGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIBD 

ill  a  cool  Devonshire  dairy  from  the  Hquid,  yellow 
train  oil  we  pour  out  of  tins  and  dignify  by  that 
name  in  the  sweltering  tropics.  The  Sakai  devDur 
it  ravenously  and  in  incredible  quantities,  for  not 
only  does  it  afford  them  their  first  full  meal  for 
months,  but  they  are  eating  against  time,  since  they 
know  that  ip  a  day  or  two  the  Malays  will  come  up- 
stream to  "barter"  with  them,  and  that  then  the 
bulk  of  the  priceless  stuff  will  be  taken  from  them, 
almost  by  force,  in  exchange  for  a  few  axe  heads, 
flints  and  steels,  and  the  blades  of  native  wood- 
knives.  Therefore,  they  pack  themselves  while  the 
opportunity  is  still  with  them,  and  so  long  as  their 
distended  stomachs  will  bear  the  strain  of  a  few  ad- 
ditional mouthfuls. 

Thus,  while  the  darkness  is  shutting  down  over  the 
forest,  is  the  harvest  supper  devoured  in  a  Sakai 
camp,  with  gluttony  and  beast  noises  of  satisfaction 
and  repletion;  but  when  the  meal  has  been  finished, 
the  sleep  of  the  full-fed  may  not  fall  upon  the 
people.  The  Sakai,  who  quail  before  the  appalling 
strength  of  Nature,  at  whose  hands  they  have  suf- 
fered an  eternal  defeat,  lie  in  perpetual  terror  of  the 
superhuman  beings  by  whom  they  believe  Nature  to 
be  animated.  Before  rest  can  be  sought,  the  spirits 
of  the  forest  and  of  the  streams,  and  the  demons  of 
the  grain  unist  be  thanked  for  their  gifts,  and  pro- 
])itiated  for  such  evil  as  has  been  done  to  them.  The 
inviolate  jungle  has  been  felled  to  make  the  clearing, 
its  virgin  growths  being  ravaged  with  axe  head  and 
fire  brand.     'I'he  rice  has  been  reaped  and  brought 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHKP,  THE  BIRD    169 

into  store.  Clearly  the  spirits  stand  in  need  of  com- 
fort and  reparation  for  the  injury  which  has  been 
wrought,  and  for  the  loss  which,  they  have  sustained. 
An  apologetic  mood  is  felt  by  the  tribe  to  be  appro- 
priate upon  their  part,  and  Sakai  custom — well-nigh 
as  ancient  as  the  hills  in  which  these  people  live — 
provides  for  such  emergencies. 

The  house  of  the  headman  or  of  the  local  wizard — 
and  the  Sakai,  as  the  Malays  will  tell  you,  are  deeply 
versed  in  magic  arts — is  filled  to  the  roof  with  the 
sodden  green  growths  of  the  jungle.  The  Sakai, 
having  trespassed  upon  the  domain  of  the  spirits, 
now  invite  the  demons  of  the  woods  and  of  the  grain 
to  share  with  them  the  dwellings  of  men.  Then, 
when  night  has  fallen,  the  whole  tribe  of  Sakai — 
men,  women,  and  little  children — casting  aside  their 
bark  loin-clouts,  creep  into  the  house,  stark  naked 
and  entirely  unarmed.  Grovelling  together  in  the 
darkness,  amid  the  leaves  and  branches  with  which 
the  place  is  crammed,  they  raise  their  voices  in  a  weird 
chant,  which  peals  skyward  till  the  dawn  has  come 
again. 

No  man  can  say  how  ancient  are  these  annual 
orgies,  nor  trace  with  certainty  the  beginnings  in 
which  they  originated.  Perhaps  they  date  back  to  a 
period  when  huts,  and  garments  even  of  bark,  were 
newly  acquired  things,  and  when  the  Sakai  suffered 
both  ungladly,  after  the  manner  of  all  wild  jungle 
creatures.  It  may  be  that,  in  those  days,  they  cast 
aside  their  bark  loin-cloths  to  revel  once  more  in 
pristine  nakedness,  amid  the  green  bouglis  of  the 


170    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BHID 

jungle,  on  occasions  of  rejoicing,  and  at  such  times 
thrust  behind  them  all  memory  of  the  more  or  less 
decorous  mating  of  man  with  the  maid  of  his  choice, 
and  of  the  bars  of  close  consanguinity  which  ex- 
perience was  teaching  them  to  rear  up  between  mem- 
bers of  the  opposite  sexes.  Be  that  how  it  may,  the 
same  ceremony  is  performed,  to  the  immense  scandal 
of  the  Malays,  in  every  camp  scattered  throughout 
the  broad  Sakai  country,  and  the  same  ancient  chant 
is  sung  during  the  long,  still  night  which  follows  the 
garnering  of  the  rice  crop.  The  Malays  call  this  cus- 
tom ber-jermun — which  more  or  less  literally  means 
"to  pig  it" — because  they  trace  a  not  altogether  fanci- 
ful resemblance  between  the  huts  stuffed  with  jungle,  in 
which  these  orgies  are  held,  and  thejermun,  or  nestlike 
shelters  which  wild  boars  construct  for  their  protection 
and  comfort. 

But  though  the  Malays,  very  properly,  despise  the 
Sakai,  and  reprobate  all  their  heathenish  ways  and 
works,  upon  the  occasion  of  which  I  write,  Sentul — 
a  man  of  the  former  race — was  not  only  present,  but 
was  debasing  himself  to  the  extent  of  taking  an  active 
part  in  the  demon  worship  and  the  unclean  ceremonies 
of  the  infidels. 

He  was  a  Malay  of  the  Malays — a  ]VIuhammadan 
who,  in  his  saner  moments,  hated  all  who  prayed  to 
devils  (other  than  those  enshrined  in  the  traditions 
of  his  own  peoj)le)  or  who  bowed  down  to  stocks  and 
stones.  But  for  the  time  being,  he  was  mad.  He 
had  come  upstream,  a  few  weeks  earlier,  to  trade  with 
the  forest-dwellers,  and  when  his  companions  had 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    171 

returned  to  the  Malay  villages,  he  had  remained 
behind.  Since  then  he  had  shared  the  life  of  the 
inmates  of  the  Sakai  camp,  forgetful  of  his  superiority- 
of  religion  and  of  race,,  and  to-night  was  herding 
naked,  amid  the  green  stuff,  with  the  chanting  jungle 
people.  And  all  this  had  befallen  him  because  the 
flashing  glance  from  a  pair  of  pretty  eyes,,  set  in  the 
face  of  a  slender  Sakai  girl,  had  blinded  him  and 
deprived  him  of  reason. 

The  wife  of  his  own  race,  and  the  child  whom  lie 
had  left  with  her  in  the  hut  downriver,  troubled  him 
not  at  all.  All  considerations  of  honour  and  duty 
and  of  the  public  opinion,  which  in  the  matter  of  a 
haison  with  an  infidel  woman  can,  among  Malays, 
be  uncommonly  rigid,  were  forgotten.  He  only  knew 
that  life  no  longer  seemed  to  hold  for  him  anything 
of  good  unless  Chep,  the  Bird,  as  her  people  named 
her,  could  be  his.  In  the  abstract,  he  despised  the 
Sakai  even  more  vehemently  than  of  old;  but  for 
this  girl's  sake  he  smothered  his  feelings,  dwelt  among 
her  kinsfolk  as  one  of  themselves,  losing  thereby  the 
last  atom  of  his  self-respect,  and  consciously  risking 
his  soul's  salvation.  Yet  all  this  sacrifice  of  his 
ideals  had  hitherto  been  unavailing,  for  Chep  was 
the  wife  of  a  Sakai  named  Ku-ish — the  Porcupine- — 
who  had  not  only  declined  to  sell  her  at  even  the 
extravagant  price  whicli  the  ^Nlalay  had  offered  for 
her,  but  guarded  her  jealously,  and  gave  Sentul  no 
oj)portunity  of  prosecuting  his  intimacy. 

On  her  side,  she  had  (juickly  divined  Sentul's  pas- 
sion for  her;  and  as  he  was  younger  and  richer  than 


172    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

Ku-ish,  better  favoured  in  his  person,  and  more- 
over a  Malay — a  man  of  the  dominant  race — she  was 
both  pleased  and  flattered  by  his  admiration.  Such 
exotic  notions  as  a  distinction  between  right  and 
wrong  boiled  themselves  down  in  her  intelligence  into 
a  desire  to  be  well  fed  and  clothed,  and  a  reluctance 
to  risk  a  severe  whipping  at  the  hands  of  the  muscular 
Ku-ish.  She  knew  that  Sentul,  who  also  attracted 
her  physically,  could  provide  her  with  hitherto  un- 
attainable luxuries.  She  hoped  he  would  be  able  to 
jirotect  her  from  the  wrath  and  violence  of  her  hus- 
band, since  there  are  few  Sakai  who  dare  to  defy  a 
Malay;  and  having  thus  thought  the  matter  out,  so 
far  as  such  a  process  was  possible  to  her,  she  now 
merely  awaited  a  fitting  opportunity  to  elope  with 
her  lover. 

Their  chance  came  on  the  night  of  the  harvest 
home.  In  the  darkness  Sentul  crept  close  to  Chcp, 
and  when  the  chant  was  at  its  loudest,  he  whispered 
In  her  ear  that  his  dugout  canoe  lay  ready  yonder, 
moored  to  the  river  bank,  and  that  he  loved  her. 
Together  they  stole  out  of  the  hut,  unobserved  by  the 
Sakai  folk,  who  sang  and  grovelled  in  the  darkness. 
The  boat  was  speedily  found,  and  the  lovers,  stepping 
into  it,  pushed  noiselessly  out  into  the  stream. 

The  river  at  this  point  hustles  its  shallow  waters, 
with  nuich  fuss  and  uproar,  down  a  long,  sloping 
bed  of  shingle,  and  the  noise  swallowed  up  the  sound 
of  the  paddles.  Chep,  seated  in  the  stern,  held  the 
steering  oar,  and  Sentul,  squatting  in  the  bows,  pro- 
pelled the  boat  downstream  with  rai)id  and  vigorous 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    17.1 

strokes.  Thus  they  journeyed  on  in  silence  through 
a  shadowy  world.  The  wonderful  virgin  forest — im- 
mense banks  of  vegetation  rising  sheer  from  the 
river's  brink  on  either  hand — made  of  the  stream  a 
narrow  defile  between  lowering  walls  of  darkness. 
The  boughs  and  tree-tops  overhead,  converging 
closely,  reduced  the  sky  to  a  slender,  star-bespangled 
ribbon.  A  steel-like  glint  played  here  and  there  upon 
the  surface  of  the  running  water,  and  its  insistent 
roar,  sinking  now  and  again  to  a  mere  murmur,  was 
blent  with  mysterious  whisperings.  Once  in  a  long 
while  an  argus  pheasant  would  yell  its  ringing  chal- 
lenge from  its  drumming-ground  on  a  neighbouring 
hill-cap  or  the  abrupt  bark  of  a  spotted  deer,  or  the 
cry  of  some  wild  beast  would  momentarily  break  in 
upon  the  stillness.  Sentul  and  Chep  were  travelling 
on  a  half-freshet,  and  this,  in  the  far  upper  country, 
where  the  streams  tear  over  their  beds  of  rocks  or 
pebbles  through  the  gorges  formed  by  their  high 
banks,  and  where  each  drains  a  big  catchment  area, 
means  that  their  boat  was  tilted  downriver  at  a  head- 
long pace.  The  dawn  was  breaking  when  the  fugi- 
tives reached  their  destination — the  Malay  village  in 
which  Sentul  had  his  home;  and  by  then  a  good  fifty 
miles  separated  them  from  the  Sakai  camp,  and  they 
felt  themselves  to  be  safe  from  pursuit. 

To  understand  this,  you  must  realize  what  the 
Sakai  of  the  interior  is.  Men  of  the  aboriginal  race 
who  have  lived  for  years  surrounded  by  Malay  habi- 
tations are  as  different  from  him  as  are  the  fallow 
deer  in  an  English  park  from  the  sambhur  of  the 


174    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

jungles.  Sakai  who  have  spent  all  their  lives  among 
Malays,  who  have  learned  to  wear  clothes,  to  count 
up  to  ten,  or  it  may  be  even  twenty,  are  hardlj'  to 
be  distinguished  from  their  neighbours,  the  other 
primitive  upcountry  natives.  They  are  not  afraid 
to  wander  through  the  Malay  villages;  they  do  not 
rush  into  the  jungle  or  hide  behind  trees  at  the  ap- 
proach of  strangers;  a  water-buffalo  does  not  inspire 
them  with  as  much  terror  as  a  tiger;  and  thej^  do  not 
hesitate  to  make,  comparatively  speaking,  long  jour- 
neys from  their  homes  if  occasion  requires.  In  all 
this  they  are  immeasurably'  more  sophisticated  than 
their  kinsmen,  the  semi-wild  Sakai  of  the  centre  of  the 
Peninsula.  These  folk  trade  with  the  Malays,  it  is 
true;  but  the  traffic  has  to  be  carried  on  by  visitors 
who  penetrate  for  the  purpose  into  the  Sakai  coun- 
try. Most  of  them  have  learned  to  speak  Malay, 
though  man}'  are  familiar  only  with  their  own  jerky, 
monosyllabic  jargon,  and  when  their  three  numerals 
have  been  used,  fall  back,  for  further  arithmetical 
expression,  upon  the  word  kerp",  which  means 
"many."  For  clothes  thej'  wear  the  narrow  loin- 
clout,  fashioned  of  the  prepared  bark  of  certain 
trees — a  form  of  garment  which  only  very  partially 
covers  their  nudities;  they  go,  not  without  reason, 
ill  great  terror  of  the  ^Malays,  and  are  as  shy  as  the 
beasts  of  the  forest;  and  never  willingly  do  they  quit 
that  portion  of  the  country  which  is  still  exclusively 
inhabited  by  the  aboriginal  tribes.  It  was  to  semi- 
savage  Sakai  such  as  these  that  Chep  and  her 
people  belonged. 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    17.5 

There  are  tribes  of  other  and  wilder  jungle-dwellers 
living  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  forests  of  the  broad 
Sakai  country — men  who  fly  at  the  approach  of  even 
the  tamer  tribesmen.  Their  camps  may  occasion- 
ally be  seen,  on  a  clear  day,  far  up  the  hillsides  on 
the  jungle-covered  uplands  of  the  remote  interior; 
their  tracks  are  sometimes  met  with,  mixed  with 
those  of  the  bison  and  rhinoceros,  the  deer  and  the 
wild  swine;  but  the  people  themselves  are  but  rarely 
encountered,  and  when  glimpsed  for  an  instant,  van- 
ish like  shadows.  The  tamer  Sakai  trade  with  them 
in  the  silent  fashion  of  the  aborigines,  depositing  the 
articles  of  barter  at  certain  spots  in  the  forest,  whence 
they  are  removed  by  the  wild  men  and  replaced  by 
various  kinds  of  jungle  produce.  Of  these,  the  most 
valued  are  the  long,  straight  reeds,  found  only  in  the 
more  remote  parts  of  the  forest,  which  are  used  by  the 
wild  men  and  by  the  tamer  tribes  folk  alike  to  form 
the  inner  casings  of  their  blowpipes.  All  these 
aborigines  are  straight-haired  peoples,  the  colour 
of  whose  skins  is,  if  anything,  somewhat  lighter  than 
is  usual  among  their  Malayan  neighbours;  but  tlie 
jungles  of  the  Peninsula  harbour  also  a  race  of  negrits 
kittle  sturdy  black  men  with  jutting,  prognathous 
features,  and  short  curly  hair  that  clings  closely  lo 
their  scalps.  They  resemble  an  African  negro  seen 
through  the  wrong  end  of  a  field-glass;  they  live  in 
improvised  shelters,  and  are  nomadic  hunters;  and 
tliough  some  of  the  tamer  among  them  curb  their 
restlessness  sufficiently  to  plant  an  occasional  catch- 
crop,  their  civilization  is  somewhat  lower  than  that 


17G    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

of  the  Sakai,  and  they  prefer  to  wander  about  in  small 
family  groups  rather  than  to  dwell  together  in  village 
communities. 

Chep,  of  course,  was  deeply  embued  with  the  tradi- 
tions of  her  people,  and  her  fancy  for  Sentul,  her  ap- 
preciation of  the  material  comfort  with  which  he 
would  be  able  to  surround  her,  and  her  confidence 
in  his  ability  to  protect  her,  had  alone  succeeded  in 
nerving  her  to  leave  her  tribe  and  to  turn  back  upon 
the  forest  country  with  which  she  was  familiar.  A 
great  fear  fell  upon  her  when,  the  last  of  her  known 
landmarks  having  been  left  far  behind,  she  found 
herself  floating  downstream  through  cluster  after 
cluster  of  Malay  villages.  The  instinct  of  her  race, 
which  bids  the  Sakai  plunge  headlong  into  the  forest 
at  the  approach  of  a  stranger,  was  strong  upon  her, 
and  her  heart  beat  violently,  like  that  of  some  wild 
bird  held  in  the  human  hand.  All  her  life  the  Malays, 
who  preyed  upon  her  people,  had  been  spoken  of  with 
fear  and  suspicion  by  the  simple  Sakai  grouped  at 
night-time  around  the  fires  in  their  squalid  camps. 
Now  she  found  herself  alone  in  the  very  heart — for 
such  to  her  it  seemed — of  the  Malayan  country. 
She  gazed  with  awe  and  admiration  at  the  primitive 
houses  around  her,  which  were  poor  enough  speci- 
mens of  their  kind,  but  which  revolutionized  her 
notions  as  to  the  possibilities  of  architectural  achieve- 
menl.  The  groves  of  palms  and  fruit  trees  were 
another  marvel,  for  her  exj)erience  of  agriculture  had 
liitherto  been  confined  to  a  temporary  clearing  in 
the  forest.     She  felt,  as  the  Malays  put  it,  like  a 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    177 

deer  astray  in  a  royal  city.  Sentul,  moreover,  was 
changed  in  her  sight.  While  he  had  lived  among  her 
people  as  one  of  themselves,  he  had  seemed  to  her  to 
he  merely  a  superior  sort  of  Sakai.  Now  she  realized, 
seeing  him  in  his  proper  environment,  that  he  was,  in 
truth,  a  Malay — a  man  of  the  dominant,  foreign 
race  which,  from  time  immemorial,  had  enslaved  her 
])eople;  and  at  that  thought  her  spirit  sank.  Pur- 
suit, which  she  had  feared  during  the  earlier  hours  of 
the  night,  became  now  for  her  a  hope.  It  meant,  in 
spite  of  the  very  workmanlike  whipping  which  would 
accompany  recapture,  a  possibility  of  deliverance — 
escape  from  this  strangers'  land,  and  a  return  to  the 
peaceful  forest  she  had  so  foolishly  quitted.  But 
in  her  eyes  the  prospect  was  infinitely  remote. 
She  knew  how  hearty  was  the  fear  with  which  her 
])eople  regarded  the  Malays;  how  averse  they  were 
from  being  lured  out  of  the  jungles  with  which  they 
were  familiar;  and  Sentul,  who  had  acquired  a 
fairly  intimate  knowledge  of  the  ways  and  character 
of  the  Sakai,  fully  shared  her  conviction  that  he  and 
the  girl  he  had  abducted  were  now  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  tribesmen. 

Accordingly  Chep  and  her  lo\'er  halted  at  the 
latter 's  village,  Jind  took  up  their  abode  in  his  house. 
Of  that  homecoming  I  possess  no  details.  SentuTs 
Malay  wife,  who  was  the  mother  of  his  children, 
must  have  regarded  the  new  imj)ortation  from  uj) 
river  with  peculiar  disfavour.  A  co-wife  is  always 
a  disagreeable  accretion,  Init  when  she  chances  to 
belong  to  the  despised  Sakai  race,  the  natural  dis- 


178    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,   J  HE  BIRD 

content  which  her  arrival  in  the  household  occasions 
is  inevitably  transformed  into  a  blazing  indignation. 
Malay  women,  however,  can  sometimes  patch  up  a 
modus  Vivendi  with  the  obviously  intolerable  as  well 
as  any  of  their  sex,  when  circumstances  are  too  strong 
for  them:  and  Sentul's  la^vful  wife  did  not  carry 
her  opposition  farther  than  to  stipulate  that  Chep 
and  she  should  be  accommodated  in  separate  huts. 

The  Sakai  girl  was  delighted  with  her  new  home. 
In  her  eyes  it  was  a  veritable  palace  compared  with 
the  miserable  shacks  which  contented  her  own  people; 
and  the  number  and  variety  of  the  cooking-pots, 
the  large  stock  of  household  stores,  the  incredibly 
luxurious  flock  sleeping  mat,  and  above  all  the  pretty 
^Malayan  garments  of  silk  and  cotton  of  which  she 
had  suddenly  become  the  bewildered  possessor  filled 
her  woman's  soul  with  pleasure.  Also,  Sentul  was 
kind  to  her,  and  she  ate  good  boiled  rice  twin' 
daily,  which  was  to  her  an  undreamed-of  content. 
Sooner  or  later  the  irresistible  longing  for  the  jungle, 
which  is  bred  in  the  very  marrow  of  the  forest-dwell- 
ers, would  awaken  in  her,  and  drive  her  back  to  her 
own  people;  but  of  tliis  she  knew  nothing  as  yet,  and 
for  the  time  she  was  happy. 

Ill  the  Sakai  camp  it  was  not  until  the  day  had 
dawned  that  the  devil-worshippers,  looking  at  one 
another's  tired  and  pallid  faces  through  heavy,  sleej)- 
less  eyes,  as  they  crawled  forth  from  the  soddiMi, 
draggled  tangle  of  vegetation  in  the  house,  noted  that 
two  of  their  number  were  missing.     The  quick  sight 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,    THE  BIRD    170 

of  the  jungle-people  at  once  spied  the  trail  left  by  the 
passage  of  the  man  and  woman,  and  following  it, 
they  crowded  down  to  the  place  where  the  dugout 
had  been  moored.  Here  they  squatted  on  the  ground 
and  began  to  smoke. 

''Rej-a-?'ojr'ihey  exclaimed,  in  the  barbarous  jargon  of 
tlie  jungle-folk.  "Lost !"  and  then  relapsed  into  silence. 
"May  she  be  devoured  by  a  tiger!"  snarled  Ku-ish, 
the  Porcupine,  who  was  making  guttural  noises  deep 
down  in  his  throat;  and  at  the  word  all  his  hearers 
shuddered,  and  drew  closer  one  to  anotlier.  T\\q 
curse  is  the  most  terrible  that  the  jungle-people 
know;  and  if  you  shared  your  home  with  tlie  great 
cats,  as  they  do,  you  also  would  regard  it  with  fear 
and  respect.  To  speak  of  a  tiger  openly,  in  such  a 
fashion,  is  moreover  extraordinarily  unlucky,  as  the 
monster,  hearing  itself  mentioned,  may  look  upon  it 
us  an  invitation  to  put  in  an  immediate  appearance. 
Ku-ish  said  little  more,  for  the  Sakai,  when  prey 
to  emotion,  make  but  a  slight  use  of  the  meagre 
vocabulary  at  their  command.  He  presently  rose, 
however,  and  went  back  to  the  camp  and  unslung 
an  exceedingly  ancient  matchlock,  which  was  sus- 
pended from  a  beam  in  the  roof  of  the  headman's 
hut.  It  was  the  only  gun  which  the  tribe  possessed, 
imd  was  their  most  precious  possession;  but  no  one 
interfered  with  the  Porcupine  or  tried  to  stay  him 
when,  musket  on  shoulder,  he  slipped  into  the  'orest, 
heading  downstream. 

Two  days  later,  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  Sc^ntul 


180    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

left  Chep,  the  Bird,  in  her  new  house,  busying  hersell 
with  the  preparation  of  the  evening  meal,  and  ac- 
companied by  his  small  son — the  child  of  his  out- 
raged wife — went  forth  to  catch  fish  in  one  of  the 
swamps  at  the  back  of  the  village.  These  marshy 
places,  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  so  many  Malay  habitations,  are  ready-made  rice- 
fields;  but  as  the  cultivation  of  a  pdda  swamp  de- 
mands more  exacting  labour  than  most  Malays  are 
willing  to  expend  upon  it,  they  are  often  left  to  lie 
fallow,  while  crops  are  grown  in  clearings  on  the  hills 
round  about.  In  dry  weather  the  cracked,  parched 
earth,  upon  which  no  vegetation  sprouts,  alone 
marks  the  places  which,  in  the  rainy  season,  are  pools 
of  stagnant  water;  but  so  surely  as  these  ponds  re- 
appear, ilie  little  muddy  fishes,  which  the  Malaj's 
call  ruan  and  sepaf,  are  to  be  found  in  them.  What 
is  the  manner  of  Iheir  subterranean  existence  during 
the  months  of  drought,  or  how  they  then  contrive  to 
supi)ort  life,  no  man  clearly  knows,  but  a  heavy 
shower  suffices  to  bring  them  once  more  to  the  sur- 
face, and  they  never  appear  to  be  any  the  worse  for 
their  temporary  interment. 

Sentul  carried  two  long  joran,  or  iVIalayan  fishing- 
rods,  over  his  shoulder,  and  his  small  naked  son 
pattered  along  at  his  heels  bearing  in  his  hands  a  tin 
containing  bait.  The  child  crooned  to  himself,  after 
the  manner  of  native  children,  but  his  father  paced 
ahead  of  him  in  silence.  Tie  was  in  a  contented  and 
comfortable  mood,  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  desire 
for  Cliej)  liad  soothei]  him  bodv  and  soul. 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    ISl 

Arrived  at  the  swamp,  which  was  now  a  broad  pool 
of  water  with  here  and  there  a  tuft  or  two  of  rank 
rushes  showing  above  the  surface,  Sentul  and  his  son 
each  took  a  rod  and  began  patiently  angling  for  the 
little  fishes.  The  sun  crept  lower  and  lower,  quick- 
ening its  pace  as  it  neared  the  western  horizon,  till 
its  slanting  rays  flooded  the  surface  of  the  pool  with  the 
crimson  hue  of  blood.  The  sky  overhead  was  dyed 
a  thousand  gorgeous  tints,  and  the  soft  light  of  the 
sunset  hour  in  Malaya  mellowed  all  the  land.  Sen- 
tul had  watched  many  a  hundred  times  the  miracle 
of  beauty  which,  in  these  latitudes,  is  daily  wrought 
by  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun,  and  he  looked  now 
upon  the  colour-drenched  landscape  about  him  with 
the  complete  indifference  to  the  glories  of  nature 
which  is  one  of  the  least  attractive  qualities  of  the 
Malays.  If  the  orgy  of  splendour  above  and  the 
reddened  pool  at  his  feet  suggested  anything  to  him, 
it  was  only  that  the  day  was  waning,  and  that  it  was 
time  to  be  wending  his  way  homeward. 

He  set  to  work  to  gather  up  his  fishing-tackle 
while  his  son,  squatting  on  the  ground  at  his  side, 
passed  a  rattan  cord  through  the  fishes'  gills  to  their 
mouths,  so  that  the  take  might  be  carried  with 
greater  ease.  While  they  wei'e  thus  engaged  a  slight 
rustle  in  the  high  grass  behind  them  caused  both 
father  and  son  to  start  and  look  round.  Not  a 
breath  of  wind  was  blowing;  but  none  the  less,  a  few 
feet  away  from  them,  the  spear-shaped  grass  tufts 
were  agitated  slightly,  as  though  the  stalks  were  being 
rushed  af>aiust  by  the  passage  of  some  wild  atiimaL 


182     THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

"Hasten,  little  one,"  said  Sentul  uneasily.  "Per- 
chance it  is  the  striped  one." 

But  as  he  spoke  the  words  the  grass  was  parted 
by  human  hands,  and  Sentul  found  himself  gazing 
into  the  wild  and  bloodshot  eyes  of  Ku-ish,  the  Por- 
cupine, along  the  length  of  an  ancient  gun-barrel. 
He  had  time  to  note  the  rust  upon  the  dulled  metal, 
the  fantastic  shape  of  the  clumsy  sight,  and  the  blue 
tattoo-marks  on  the  nose  and  forehead  of  his  enemy. 
All  these  things  he  saw  mechanically,  in  an  instant 
of  time;  but  ere  he  could  move  hand  or  foot  the 
world  around  him  seemed  to  be  shattered  into  a  thou- 
sand fragments  to  the  sound  of  a  deafening  explosion, 
and  he  lay  dead  upon  the  grass,  with  his  skull  blowu 
to  atoms. 

At  the  sight  Sentul's  son  fled  screaming  along  the 
edge  of  the  pool;  but  Ku-ish's  blood  was  up,  and  he 
started  in  pursuit.  The  little  boy,  finding  flight 
useless,  flung  himself  down  in  the  long  grass,  and 
cowering  there,  raised  his  arnxs  above  his  head, 
shrieking  for  mercy  in  his  childish  treble.  Ku-ish, 
for  answer,  j)lunged  his  spear  again  and  again  into 
the  writhing  body  at  his  feet;  and  at  the  second  blow 
the  distortions  of  terror  faded  from  his  victim's  face 
and  was  replaced  by  that  expression  of  perfect  peace 
that  is  only  to  be  seen  in  its  completeness  in  the  coun- 
tenance of  a  sleeping  child. 

Ku-ish  gathered  up  the  flsli  and  took  all  the  to- 
])acco  that  he  could  find  upon  Sentul's  body;  for  a 
Sakai  never  quite  loses  sight  of  those  perennial 
cra\ing.s  of  a|)pctitc  which  lie  is  doomed  never  alto- 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  (HEP,  THE  BIRD    183 

gether  to  satisf}'.  Then,  when  the  darkness  had 
shut  downi  over  the  land,  he  crept  softly  to  Chep's 
house,  and  bade  her  come  forth  and  join  him.  She 
came  at  once,  and  without  a  word;  for  your  Sakai 
woman  holds  herself  to  be  the  chattel  of  whatever 
man  chances  at  the  moment  to  have  possessed  him- 
self of  her,  forcibly  or  otherwise.  She  wept  furtively 
when  Ku-ish  told  her,  in  a  few  passionless  sentences, 
of  how  he  had  killed  Sentul  and  his  child;  and  she 
l)ewailed  herself  at  the  top  of  her  voice  when,  at  the 
first  convenient  halting-place,  she  received  the  hand- 
some trouncing  which  Sentul  dealt  out  to  her,  with  no 
grudging  hand,  as  her  share  in  the  general  chastise- 
ment. But  when  the  welting  was  over  she  followed 
him  meekly  enough,  with  the  tears  still  wet  upon  her 
cheeks,  and  made  no  effort  to  escape.  Thus  Ku-ish, 
the  Porcupine,  and  Chep,  the  Bird,  made  their  way 
back  through  the  strange  forests,  until  thej'^  had  once 
more  regained  the  familiar  Sakai  country,  and  were 
safe  among  their  own  people. 

Pursuit  in  such  a  place  is  hopeless;  for  a  Sakai 
comes  and  goes  like  a  shadow,  and  can  efface  himself 
utterly  if  lie  desire  so  to  do.  Thus,  though  Sentul's 
relatives  clamoured  for  vengeance,  little  could  be 
done.  I  was  at  that  time  in  charge  of  the  district 
where  these  things  occurred,  and  it  was  only  with 
the  greatest  difficulty,  and  after  pledging  myself  to 
guarantee  their  personal  immunity,  that  I  was  able 
to  induce  the  various  Sakai  headmen  to  meet  me 
near  the  confines  of  their  country.  My  request  that 
Ku-ish  should  be  handed  over  to  me  for  trial  was 


184    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

received  by  the  assembled  elders  as  a  suggestion  that 
was  manifestly  ridiculous.  Ku-isli,  they  observed 
sententiously,  was  in  the  jungle,  the  portals  of  which 
were  closed  to  all  save  the  Sakai.  Unaided  by  them, 
neither  white  man  nor  Malay  could  ever  hope  to  set 
hands  upon  him.  They  would  take  no  part  in  the 
hunt.  I  could  not  bring  any  material  pressure  to 
bear,  as  I  had  undertaken  that  no  harm  should  befall 
them  at  the  meeting,  and  when  we  had  once  separated 
they  could  vanish  quite  as  effectively  as  Ku-ish 
had  done.  They  were  fully  aware  of  all  this,  and 
were  irritatingly  placid  and  happy.  It  looked  like 
an  absolute  impasse. 

At  length  a  very  aged  man,  the  principal  Sakai 
elder  present,  a  wrinkled  and  unimaginably  dirty 
old  savage,  scarred  by  encounters  with  wild  beasts, 
and  gray  with  skin  diseases  and  wood-ashes,  lifted 
up  his  voice  and  spoke,  shaking  his  straggling  mc.p 
of  grizzled  hair  in  time  to  the  cadence  of  his  words. 

"There  is  a  custom,  Tiian/''  he  said.  "There  is  ii 
custom  when  such  things  befall.  The  Porcujjinc 
hath  killed  the  Goh*  and  our  tribe  must  rep<iy 
sevenfold.  Seven  lives  for  the  life  of  a  Gob.  It  is 
the  custom." 

He  spoke  in  Malay,  which  gave  him  an  unusual 
command  of  numerals,  and  he  had  attained  to  a  degree 
of  civilization  and  experience  which  enabled  him  to 
perform  the  brain-cracking  feat  of  counting  up  to  ten. 

The  proposal  sounded  generous,  but  a  little  in- 
quiry presently  revealed  the  old  chief's  real  inten- 

*Gob — Stranger,  i.  c,  any  pwrson  who  is  not  a  S^ai. 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD    185 

tions.  His  suggestion  was  that  the  blood-money 
to  be  exacted  from  his  tribe  should  take  the  form  of 
seven  human  beings,  who  were  to  be  duly  delivered 
to  the  relatives  of  the  dead  man  as  slaves.  These 
seven  unfortunates  were  not  to  be  members  of  his 
own  or  Ku-ish's  tribe,  but  were  to  be  captured  by 
them  from  among  the  really  wild  people  of  the  hills, 
who  had  had  no  share  in  the  ill-doing,  which  it 
was  my  object  to  punish.  The  Porcujjine  and  his 
l)rethren,  he  explained,  would  run  some  risk,  and 
would  be  put  to  a  considerable  amount  of  trouble 
antl  exertion  before  the  seven  wild  Sakai  could  be 
caught,  and  this  was  to  be  the  measure  of  their 
punishment.  The  blameless  savages  of  the  moun- 
tains I  was,  moreover,  assured,  were  not  deserving 
of  any  pity,  as  they  had  obviously  been  created  in 
order  to  provide  the  wherewithal  to  meet  such  emer- 
geTicies,  and  to  supply  their  more  civilized  neighbours 
with  a  valuable  commodity  for  barter.  The  old 
cliief  went  on  to  tell  ine  that  his  tribe  wovdd  be  merci- 
fully free  from  all  fear  of  reprisals  as  owing  to  some 
incomprehensible  but  providential  superstition,  the 
wild  Sakai  never  pursued  a  raiding  party  beyond  a 
s})ot  where  the  latter  had  left  a  spear  sticking  up- 
right in  the  ground.  This,  he  said,  was  well  known 
to  the  marauders,  who  took  care  to  avail  themselves 
of  the  protection  thus  afforded  to  them  as  soon  as 
ever  their  captives  had  been  secured,  l^he  ^ggembled 
Sakai  were  unable  to  account  for  t)ie  paralysis  with 
which  the  sight  of  this  abandoned  spear  invariably 
smote  the  wild  folk,  but  the  extraordinary  converi' 


18()    THE  FLIGHT  OF  CHEP,  THE  BIRD 

leiice  of  the  thing  evidently  appealed  strongly  to  their 
utilitarian  minds. 

Blood-money  in  past  times,  I  was  assured  by  Ma- 
lays and  Sakai  alike,  had  always  been  paid  in  this 
manner  when  it  was  due  from  the  semi-wild  tribes  of 
the  interior.  It  was  the  custom;  and  Sentul's 
relatives  were  urgent  in  their  prayers  to  me  to  accept 
the  proposal.  Instead,  I  exacted  a  heavy  fine  of 
ijctah*  and  other  jungle  produce  from  the  tribe  to 
which  Ku-ish,  the  Porcupine,  belonged.  This  was 
regarded  as  a  monstrous  injustice  by  the  Sakai,  and 
as  an  inadequate  indemnity  by  the  Malays;  and  I 
thus  gave  complete  dissatisfaction  to  all  parties 
concerned,  as  is  not  infrequently  the  fate  of  the 
adjudicating  white  man.  However,  as  the  Oriental 
proverb  has  it,  "an  order  is  an  order  till  one  is  strong 
enough  to  disobey  it";  so  the  fine  was  paid  by  the 
Sakai  and  accepted  by  the  ]\Ialays  with  grumblings 
of  which  I  only  heard  the  echoes. 

The  really  remarkable  features  of  the  incident,'^ 
related  are  that  Ku-ish  ever  plucked  up  the  courage 
to  quit  the  jungles  with  which  he  was  familiar  and 
to  penetrate  alone  into  the  Malayan  country,  and 
that  he,  the  son  of  a  down-trodden  race,  dared  for 
once  to  pay  a  portion  of  the  heavy  debt  of  vengeancr 
for  long  years  of  grinding  cruelty  and  wicked  wrong 
which  the  Sakai  owe  to  the  Malays. 


*Citnh — CJutla-jxTcha. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MIIHAMMADANS 

THE  sunset  hour  had  come  as  I  passed  up  the 
narrow  track  that  skirted  the  river  bank, 
with  a  mob  of  villagers  at  my  heels.  Old 
in(Mi  were  there  who  had  seen  many  strange  things 
In  tlie  wild  days  before  the  coming  of  the  white  men; 
dull  peasants,  who  seemed  too  stolid  and  stupid  to 
liave  ever  seen  anything  at  all;  and  swaggering  young- 
sters, grown  learned  in  the  mysteries  of  reading  and 
writing,  fresh  from  our  schools  and  prepared  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  teach  the  wisest  of  the  village 
elders  the  only  proper  manner  in  which  an  egg  may 
be  sucked.  The  rabble  which  every  iVIalay  village 
spews  up  nowadays,  when  one  chances  to  visit  it,  is 
usually  composed  of  these  elements — the  old  men 
whose  wisdom  is  their  own  and  of  its  kind  deep  and 
wide;  the  middle-aged  tillers  of  the  soil,  whose  lives 
are  set  in  so  straitened  a  rut  that  they  cannot  peep 
over  the  edges,  and  whose  wisdom  is  that  of  the  field 
and  the  forest;  and  the  men  of  the  younger  genera- 
tion, most  of  whose  knowledge  is  borrowed,  extraor- 
dinarily imperfect  of  its  kind,  and  fortified  by  the 
self-confidence  of  ignorance.  The  men  of  the  first 
two  classes  are  gradualh'  dying  out,  those  of  the  last 
are  replacing  them;  and  the  result  sometimes  tempts 
one  to  ask  the  heretical  question  whether  European 

18* 


188   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

systems  of  education  are  really  as  practically  educa- 
tive as  the  unsystematic  transmission  of  accumulated 
knowledge  and  tradition  which  they  have  superseded. 

The  path  along  which  I  was  walking  was  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  the  main  street  of  the  village. 
On  my  right,  a  dozen  feet  away,  the  ground  fell 
suddenly  and  perpendicularly  to  the  brown  waters 
of  the  Jelai,  which  at  this  point  had  cut  for  themselves 
a  deep  channel  through  the  clay  soil.  Here  and 
there  the  bank  had  been  worn  into  a  chenderong — a 
deep  cleft  formed  by  the  buffaloes  trampling  their 
way  down  to  water;  and  at  regular  intervals  bathing 
rafts  were  moored,  and  rude  steps  had  been  cut  to 
render  them  more  easily  accessible.  On  my  left 
the  thatclied  roofs  of  the  ^Malayan  houses  showed 
in  an  irregular  line  running  parallel  to  the  river, 
amid  groves  of  fruit  trees  and  coco  and  areca  nut 
palms.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Jelai  the  jungle 
rose  in  a  magnificent  bank  of  vegetation  eighty  feet 
in  height,  sheer  from  the  river's  brink. 

The  glaring  Malayan  sun,  sinking  to  its  rest, 
blazed  full  in  my  eyes,  dazzling  me,  and  thus  I  saw 
but  dimly  the  figure  that  crossed  my  path,  heading 
for  the  running  water  on  my  right.  Silhouetted 
blackly  against  the  furnace  mouth  in  the  west  it 
appeared  to  be  the  form  of  a  woman  bowed  nearly 
double  beneath  the  weight  of  a  burden  slung  in  a 
cloth  across  her  back — a  burden  far  too  heavy  for  her 
strength.  This,  however,  is  a  sight  that  is  only  too 
common  in  Asiatic  lantls;  for  here,  if  man  must  idle 
and  loaf,  woman  must  work  as  well  as  weep,  until 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMAD ANS    189 

at  last  the  time  comes  for  the  long,  long  rest  under 
the  lovegrass  and  the  spear-blades  of  the  lalang  in 
some  shady  corner  of  the  peaceful  village  burial- 
ground.  Accordingly,  I  took  no  special  notice  of  the 
laden  woman  moving  so  painfully  athwart  the  sun- 
glare  ahead  of  me,  until  my  arm  was  grasped  vio- 
lently by  the  headman,  who  was  walking  just 
behind  me. 

"Have  a  care,  Tuaii!"  he  cried  in  some  agitation. 
"Have  a  care.  It  is  Minah  and  her  man.  It  is  the 
sickness  that  is  not  good — the  evil  sickness.  Go  not 
near  to  her,  Tuan,  lest  some  ill  thing  befall." 

The  perverse  instinct  of  the  white  man  invariably 
prompts  him  to  set  at  instant  defiance  any  warning 
that  a  native  may  be  moved  to  give  him.  This 
propensity  has  added  considerably  to  the  figures 
which  represent  the  European  death-rate  throughout 
Asia,  and,  incidentally,  it  has  led  to  many  of  the  acts 
of  reckless  daring  which  have  won  for  Englishmen 
their  Eastern  Empire.  It  has  also  set  the  native 
the  hard  task  of  deciding  whether  the  greater  sub- 
ject for  wonder  is  the  courage  or  the  stupidity  of  the 
men  who  rule  him.  I  had  lived  long  enough  among 
natives  to  know  that  there  is  generally  a  sound  reason 
to  justify  any  warning  they  may  give;  but  nature,  as 
usual,  was  stronger  than  acquired  experience  or  com- 
mon sense,  so  I  released  my  arm  from  the  headman's 
grip,  and  walked  up  to  the  figure  in  front  of  me. 

It  was,  as  I  had  seen,  that  of  a  woman  bowed 
beneath  the  weight  of  a  heavy  burtlen, — a  woman 
still    young,    not    ill-looking,    light    coloured    for    a 


190   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  ^lUHAMMADANS 

Malay,  and  possessed  of  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  the  expres- 
sion of  which  was  pecuHarly  soft  and  tender.  I  only 
noticed  this  later,  and  perhaps  a  knowledge  of  her 
story  helped  then  to  quicken  my  perceptions;  but 
at  the  moment  my  attention  was  completely  absorbed 
by  the  strange  bundle  which  she  bore. 

It  was  a  shapeless  thing,  wrapped  in  an  old  cloth, 
soiled  and  tattered  and  horribly  stained,  which  was 
slung  over  the  woman's  left  shoulder,  across  her 
breast,  and  under  her  right  armpit.  Out  of  the 
bundle,  just  above  the  base  of  the  woman's  own  neck, 
there  protruded  a  head  that  lolled  backward  as  she 
moved — a  head,  gray-white  in  colour,  hairless,  sight- 
less, featureless,  formless — an  object  of  horror  and 
repulsion.  Near  her  shoulders  two  stumps,  armed 
with  ugly  bosses  at  their  tips,  emerged  from  the 
bundle,  motiveless  limbs  that  swayed  and  gesticu- 
lated loosely.  Near  her  own  hips  two  membeis, 
similarly  deformed,  hung  down  almost  to  the  ground, 
dangling  limply  as  the  woman  walked — limbs  that 
showed  a  sickly  grayish  colour  in  the  evening  light, 
and  ended  in  five  white  patches  where  the  toes  should 
have  been.  It  was  a  leper  far  gone  in  the  disease 
whom  the  woman  was  carrying  riverward. 

She  did  not  pause  when  I  spoke  to  her,  rather  she 
seemed  to  quicken  her  pace;  and  presently  she  and 
lier  burden,  the  shapeless  head  and  limbs  of  the 
latter  bobbing  impotently  as  the  jolts  shook  them, 
disappeared  down  the  river  bank  in  the  direction  of 
the  running  water. 

I  stood  still  where  she  had  left  me,  shocked  by  what 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS    191 

I  had  seen;  for  lepers,  or  indeed  deformed  people  of 
any  kind,  are  remarkably  rare  among  the  healthy 
Malayan  villagers,  and  the  sight  had  been  as  un- 
expected as  disgusting.  Of  the  men  behind  me, 
some  laughed,  one  or  two  uttered  a  few  words  of 
cheap  jeer  and  taunt,  and  every  one  of  them  turned 
aside  to  spit  solemnly  in  token  that  some  unclean 
thing  had  been  at  hand.  The  headman,  newly  ap- 
pointed and  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  his  responsibili- 
ties, whispered  an  apology  in  my  ear. 

"Pardon  us,  Tuan,'"  he  said.  "It  is  an  ill-omened 
sight,  and  verily  I  crave  forgiveness.  It  is  not  fitting 
that  this  woman  should  thus  pass  and  repass  athwart 
the  track  upon  which  you  are  pleased  to  walk,  and 
that  she  should  bear  so  unworthy  a  burden.  She  is  one 
who  hath  been  inadequately  instructed  by  her  parents, 
one  who  knoweth  nought  of  language  or  religion.  I 
pray  you  pardon  her  and  the  village.  She  is  a  bad 
woman  to  bring  this  shame  upon  our  folk." 

"Who  is  she.'*"  I  inquired. 

"She  is  Minah,  a  woman  of  this  village,  one 
devoid  of  shame.  And  behold  this  day  she  has 
smudged  soot  upon  the  faces  of  all  of  us  by  thus  wan- 
tonly passing  across  yoiu*  path,  bearing  her  man,  the 
leper;  and  I  presently  will  upbraid  her,  yea,  very 
certainly,  I  will  rei)ro\'e  her  with  many  pungent 
words." 

"Is  she  also  unclean?"  I  asketl. 

"No,  Tuan,  the  evil  sickness  hatli  not  fallen  upon 
her — yet.  But  her  man  is  sore  strickcMi,  and  though 
we,  who  are  of  her  blood,  jilead  willi  her  uiiceasiiigly, 


192   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

bidding  her  quit  this  man,  as  by  the  Law  of  Mu- 
hammad she  hath  the  right  to  do,  she  will  by  no 
means  hearken  to  our  words,  for  she,  Tuan,  is  a 
woman  of  a  hard  and  evil  heart,  very  obstinate  and 
headstrong." 

He  spoke  quite  simply  the  thought  that  was  in  his 
mind.  From  his  point  of  view  there  was  nothing  of 
heroism,  nothing  of  the  glory  of  womanly  tenderness 
and  devotion  in  the  sight  of  this  girl's  self-sacrifice. 
To  him  and  to  his  fellows  Minah's  conduct  was  merely 
a  piece  of  inexplicable  female  folly,  the  unspeakable 
perversity  of  a  woman  deaf  to  the  persuasions  and 
advice  of  those  who  wished  her  well.  As  for  white 
men,  they  were  even  more  incomprehensible  than 
women;  so  he  turned  upon  me  eyes  that  held  more  of 
pity  than  surprise  when  I  presently  spoke  of  her  in 
praise. 

"Of  a  truth,"  I  said,  "this  woman  is  nobler  than 
any  of  her  sex  of  whom  I  have  heard  tell  in  all  this 
land  of  Pahang.  Your  village,  O  Peng-hulu,  hath 
much  right  to  be  proud  of  this  leper's  wife.  I  charge 
;s'OU  say  no  word  of  reproach  to  her  concerning  her 
crossing  of  my  path;  and  give  her  this,  it  is  but  a 
trifling  sum,  and  tell  her  that  it  is  given  in  token  of 
the  honour  in  which  I  hold  her." 

This  wholly  unexpected  way  of  looking  upon  a 
matter  which  had  long  been  a  topic  of  discussion 
in  the  village  was  clearly  bewildering  to  the  Malays 
about  me;  but  money  is  a  useful  and  honourable 
commodity,  and  the  possession  of  anything  calculated 
to  bring  in  cash  does  not  fail  to  inspire  some  measure 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS   193 

of  respect.  My  gift,  therefore,  had  the  effect  of 
stemming  forthwith  the  undercurrent  of  jeers  and 
hiughter  at  Minah  and  her  husband  which  had  been 
audible  among  the  Peng-hid u\'^  followers  ever  since 
the  strange  pair  had  come  into  view.  The  incident, 
moreover,  would  tend  to  improve  her  position  in  the 
village  and  to  cause  more  consideration  to  be  shown 
to  her  by  her  neighbours. 

"Tell  her  also,"  I  said,  as  I  stepped  on  board  my 
boat  to  begin  the  journey  downstream.  "Tell  her 
also  that  if  there  be  aught  in  which  she  needs  my  aid, 
now  or  hereafter,  she  hath  but  to  come  to  me  or  to 
send  me  word,  and  I  will  help  her  in  her  affliction 
according  to  the  measure  of  my  ability." 

''Tiant  r"  cried  the  villagers  in  a  chorus  of  assent, 
as  my  boat  pushed  out  from  the  bank,  and  my  nu'U 
s(M/,ed  their  paddles  for  the  homeward  row;  and  thus 
ended  my  first  encounter  with  ]\Iinah,  the  daughter  of 
the  ]\Iuhammadans,  whom  the  threats  of  the  village 
elders,  the  advice  of  her  friends,  the  tears  and  en- 
treaties of  her  relatives,  the  contempt  of  most  of  her 
neighbours,  and  the  invitations  of  those  who  would 
have  wed  with  her,  were  alike  powerless  to  lure  from 
the  side  of  the  shapeless  wreck  who  was  her  husband. 

Later  I  made  it  my  business  to  inquire  from  those 
who  knew  concerning  this  woman  and  her  circum- 
stances, and  all  that  I  learned  served  only  to  quicken 
my  sympathy  and  admiration. 

Like  all  Malay  women,  ^linah  had  been  married, 
when  she  was  still  quite  a  cliild,  to  a  man  whom  she 


194   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  IMUHAI^IMADANS 

had  hardly  ever  seen,  and  with  whom,  prior  to  her 
wedding,  she  would  not  for  her  life  have  been  guilty 
of  the  indecency  of  speaking  a  syllable.  On  the  day 
appointed  for  the  ceremony  she  had  been  decked  out 
in  all  the  finery  and  gold  ornaments  that  her  people 
had  been  able  to  borrow  from  their  neighbours  for 
many  miles  around,  and  had  been  led  forth  to  take 
her  seat  upon  a  dais,  side  by  side  with  the  stranger 
into  whose  keeping  she  was  about  to  be  given.  For 
hours  she  had  squatted  there  in  an  agony  of  cramped 
limbs  that  she  dared  not  relieve  by  the  slightest 
movement,  and  in  a  torture  of  embarrassment,  while 
I  he  village  folk — who  composed  the  whole  of  her 
world — ate  their  fill  of  the  rich  food  provided  for 
ihem,  and  thereafter  chanted  endless  verses  from  the 
Kuran  in  sadly  mispronounced  Arabic.  This  ap- 
l)al]ing  publicity  had  almost  deprived  the  dazed 
little  girl  of  her  faculties,  for  hitherto  she  had  been 
kept  in  complete  seclusion,  and  latterly  had  spent 
most  of  her  time  on  the  para,  or  shelf-like  upper 
apartment  of  her  father's  house.  She  had  been  too 
abjectly  terrified  even  to  cry,  far  less  to  raise  her 
eyes  from  her  fingertips  which,  scarlet  with  henna, 
rested  immovably  upon  her  knees. 

Tlien,  the  wedding  ceremonies  having  at  last  con- 
cluded, she  had  been  utterh*  miserable  for  many 
days.  She  was  not  yet  in  her  "teens,"  and  to  her  a 
man  was  much  what  the  ogre  of  th(>  fairy-tales  is  to 
the  imagination  of  other  little  girls  of  about  the  same 
age  in  our  nurseries  at  home — a  creature  of  immense 
strengtli  and  cruelty,  filled  with  strange  devouring 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS    195 

appetities,  against  whom  her  puny  efforts  to  resist 
could  avail  nothing.  All  women  who  are  wives  by 
contract,  rather  tlian  by  inclination,  experience  some- 
thing of  this  paralysis  of  fear  when  first  they  find 
Ihemselves  at  the  mercy  of  a  man;  but  for  the  girls  of 
a  ^luhammadan  population  this  instinctive  terror 
of  the  husband  has  a  tenfold  force.  During  all  the 
days  of  her  life  a  daughter  of  the  ]Muhammadans 
has  seen  the  i)ower  and  authority  of  man  undisputed 
and  unchecked  by  the  female  members  of  his  house- 
Iiold.  She  has  seen,  perhaps,  her  own  mother  put 
away,  after  many  years  of  faithfulness  and  love,  be- 
(•ause  her  charms  have  faded  and  her  husband  has 
grown  weary  of  her;  she  has  seen  the  married  women 
about  her  cowed  by  a  word,  or  even  a  look,  from  the 
man  who  holds  in  his  hands  an  absolute  right  to 
dispose  of  his  wife's  destiny;  she  has  watched  the  men 
rating  their  meals  apart — alone  if  no  other  member  of 
the  masculine  sex  chanced  to  be  present — because 
'A  omen  are  not  deemed  worthy  to  jjartake  of  food  in 
tiic  company  of  their  sui)eriors;  and  as  a  result  of  all 
these  things,  the  daughter  of  the  ]\ruhammadans  has 
k'arned  to  believe  fi'om  her  heart  that  man  is  indeed 
fashioned  in  a  mould  more  honoura})l('  than  that  in 
wliich  the  folk  of  her  own  sex  are  east.  She  sul)- 
scribes  generally  to  the  ]\Ialay  theory  that  "it  is  not 
fitting*"  that  women  should  question  the  doings  of 
men,  and  she  has  no  share  in  the  qiiasi  maternal,  very 
loleranl,  yet  half-contemptuous  attitude  which  wo- 
men in  Enrope  are  apt  to  assume  toward  the  men 
whom  they  love  but  are  accustomed  to  regard  in  the 


196   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

light  of  more  or  less  helpless  and  irresponsible  chil- 
dren. Instead,  the  Muhammadan  woman  looks  up 
to  a  man  as  to  a  being  who  is  nobler  than  herself, 
endowed  with  mental  and  physical  powers  superior 
to  her  own,  who  is  often  capricious,  harsh,  and 
violent,  who  may  be  cajoled  and  placated,  but 
who  fills  her  simple,  trustful  soul  with  fear  and 
awe. 

Little  Minah,  therefore,  had  been  frightened  out 
of  her  wits  at  the  bare  notion  of  being  handed  over  to 
a  husband  for  his  service  and  pleasure,  and  her 
gratitude  to  her  man  had  been  extravagant  and 
passionate  in  its  intensity  when  she  fovmd  that  he 
was  consistently  kind  and  tender  to  her.  For  Ma- 
mat,  the  man  to  whom  this  child  had  been  so  early 
mated,  was  a  typical  villager  of  the  interior,  good- 
natured  and  easygoing  through  sheer  indolence, 
courteous  of  manner,  soft  of  speech,  and  caressing  by 
instinct,  as  are  so  many  folk  of  the  kindly  Malayan 
stock.  He,  too,  perhaps,  had  felt  something  akin 
to  pit}'  for  the  wild-eyed  little  girl  who  addressed 
him  in  quavering  monosyllables,  and  he  found  a  new 
pleasure  in  soothing  and  petting  her.  So,  little  by 
little,  his  almost  paternal  feeling  for  her  turned  in 
due  season  to  a  man's  strong  love,  and  awoke  in  her 
a  woman's  passionate  devotion.  Thus,  for  a  space, 
Alamat  and  ]\Iinah  were  happy,  though  no  children 
were  born  to  them,  and  IVIinah  fretted  secretly, 
when  the  house  was  still  at  night-time,  for  she  knew 
that  the  village  women  spoke  truly  when  they  whis- 
pered together  that  no  wife  could  hope  to  hold  the 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS  107 

fickle  heart  of  a  man  unless  there  were  baby  fin- 
gers to  aid  and  strengthen  her  own  desperate 
grasp. 

Two  or  three  seasons  came  and  went.  Annually 
the  rich  yellow  crop  was  reaped  laboriously,  ear  by 
ear,  and  the  good  grain  was  garnered.  Later  the 
ploughs  were  set  going  anew  across  the  dry  meadows, 
and  in  the  rice  swamps  the  buffaloes  were  made  to 
trample  and  knead  the  soft  earth  into  a  quagmire. 
Then  sowing  had  been  taken  in  hand,  and  while  the 
I^rogress  of  the  crop  was  closely  marked  and  end- 
lessly discussed,  the  villagers  had  kept  all  free  from 
weeds,  working  in  rotation  upon  one  another's  land 
in  chattering  groups  until  the  time  for  reaping  once 
more  came  round.  Mamat  and  Minah  had  taken 
their  share  of  the  toil,  and  had  watched  nature  giving 
oirth  to  her  myriad  offspring  with  unfailing  regu- 
larity, but  still  no  small  feet  pattered  over  the  lath 
flooring  of  their  hut,  and  no  child's  voice  made  music 
in  their  compound.  ]Mamat  seemed  to  have  become 
less  lighthearted  than  of  old,  and  he  frequently  re- 
turned from  the  fields  complaining  of  fever,  and  lay 
down  to  rest  tired  and  depressed.  ]\Iinah  tended  him 
carefully,  but  she  watched  him  with  misery  in  \\or 
heart,  for  siie  told  herself  that  the  day  was  drawing 
near  that  would  see  a  co-wife,  who  should  bear  sons 
to  her  husband,  come  to  rob  her  of  his  love.  There- 
fore, at  times,  when  Mamat  was  absent,  she  would 
weep  furtively  as  she  sat  alone  among  the  cooking- 
I)ots  in  the  empty  hut,  and  many  were  the  vows  of 
rich  offerings  to  be  devoted  to  the  shrines  of  the  local 


108   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  IVIUHAMMADANS 

saints  that  she  made  if  only  they  would  insure  to  hei 
the  joy  of  motherhood. 

Just  before  dusk  one  afternoon  ]\Iamat  came  back 
to  the  hut,  and  as  was  his  wont — for  he  was  very 
considerate  to  Minah,  and  ever  anxious  to  aid  her 
in  her  work — he  fell  to  boiling  the  rice  at  the  little 
mud  fireplace  at  the  back  of  the  central  living-room 
where  Minah  was  preparing  the  evening  meal. 
AYhile  he  was  so  engaged  he  contrived  by  a  clumsv 
movement  to  over-set  the  pot,  and  the  boiling  wate^ 
streamed  over  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand.  Minah 
gave  a  shrill  cry  in  sympathy  for  the  pain  which  she 
knew  he  must  be  enduring;  but  IVIamat  looked  vvj 
at  her  with  wondering  eyes. 

"What  ails  you,  little  one?"  he  asked,  without  a 
trace  of  suffering  in  his  voice. 

"The  water  is  boiling,"  cried  ]\Iinah.  "  Y'^a  Allah ! 
How  evil  is  my  destiny  that  so  great  a  hurt  should 
Ix^fall  you  because  you,  unlike  other  men,  stoop  to 
aid  me  in  my  work!  O  Well,  Weh,  my  liver  is  sad 
because  of  your  pain.  Let  me  bind  your  fingers. 
See,  here  is  oil  and  much  rag." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  Mamat  asked  again,  star- 
ing at  her  uncomprehendingly.  "Indeed  I  have 
suffered  no  hurt.  The  water  was  cold.  Look  at 
my  fing     ..." 

His  voice  faltered  and  his  words  ceased  as  he  sat 
gazing  stupidly,  in  mingknl  astonishment  and  fear, 
at  his  scalded  hand.  I'he  little  hut  was  reeking  with 
the  odour  emitted  by  that  peeling  skin  and  flesh. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Minah,"  he  asked 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS    lJ)i) 

presently,  in  an  awed  whisper.  "The  water  was 
certainly  boiling  for  my  fingers  are  all  a-frizzle,  yet 
I  felt  no  pain,  and  even  now  .  .  .  What  is  it, 
Minah?" 

His  wife  inspected  the  ugly  hand  which  he  ex- 
tended toward  her,  and  was  as  bewildered  as  Mamat. 

"Perchance  you  have  acquired  some  magic  art 
that  drives  pain  far  from  you,"  she  suggested. 

Among  the  villagers  of  the  Malay  Peninsula  magic 
is  accounted  so  much  a  commonplace  of  everyday 
experience  that  neither  Mamat  nor  Minah  saw 
anything  extravagant  in  her  explanation.  Mamat, 
Indeed,  felt  rather  flattered  by  the  idea,  but  he  none 
the  less  denied  having  had  any  dealings  with  the 
spirits,  and  for  some  weeks  he  thought  little  more 
about  the  discovery  of  his  strange  insensibility  to 
pain.  The  sores  on  his  hands,  however,  did  not  heal, 
and  at  length  matters  began  to  look  serious,  since  he 
could  no  longer  do  his  usual  share  of  work  in  the 
fields.  By  Minah's  advice  the  aid  of  a  local  medicine- 
man of  some  repute  was  had  recoiu-se  to,  and  for 
days  the  little  house  was  noisy  with  the  soimd  of  old- 
world  incantations,  and  redolent  of  the  heavy  odours 
given  off  by  the  spices  that  burned  in  the  wizard's 
brazier.  ]\Iamat,  too,  went  abroad  with  his  hand'' 
stained  all  manner  of  imnatural  hues,  and  was 
hedged  about  by  numerous  taboos,  which  deprived 
his  life  of  a  good  deal  of  its  comfort  and  his  meals  of 
most  things  that  made  his  rice  palatable. 

For  some  weeks,  as  is  the  manner  of  his  kind  in 
Asia  ;ind  out  of  it,  the  UKHlieinc-inan  slrugyled  willi 


200   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMAD ANS 

the  disease  he  half  recognized  but  lacked  the  courage 
to  name;  and  when  at  length  disguise  was  no  longer 
possible,  it  was  to  Minah  that  he  told  the  truth, 
told  it  with  the  crude  and  brutal  bluntness  which 
natives  keep  for  the  breaking  of  ill  tidings.  He  lay 
in  wait  for  her  by  the  little  bathing  raft  on  the 
river's  brink,  where  Minah  was  wont  to  fill  the  gourds 
with  water  for  her  house,  and  he  began  his  tale  at 
once  without  preface  or  preparation. 

"Sister,  it  is  the  evil  sickness,"  he  said.  "Without 
doubt  it  is  the  sickness  that  is  not  good.  For  nie, 
I  can  do  nought  to  aid  this  man  of  thine,  for  the  devil 
of  this  sickness  is  a  very  strong  devil.  Therefore, 
give  me  the  money  that  is  due  to  me,  and  suffer  mo 
to  depart,  for  I  also  greatly  fear  to  contract  the  evil. 
And,  Sister,  it  were  well  for  you  speedily  to  seek  a 
divorce  from  Mamat,  as  in  such  cases  is  permitted 
by  law,  lest  you,  too,  become  afflicted,  for  this  diseases 
is  one  that  can  by  no  means  be  medicined,  even  if 
Petera  Guru  himself  were  to  take  a  hand  in  the 
charming  away  of  the  evil  humours." 

No  one  in  Malaya  ever  names  lepros\\  It  is  spoken 
of  as  rarely  as  possible,  and  then  by  all  manner  of 
euphonisms,  lest  hearing  its  name  pronounced  it 
should  seek  out  the  speaker  and  abide  with  him  for- 
ever. But  when  the  words  "the  evil  sickness" 
sounded  in  her  ears,  ]\Iinah  undtTstood  their  full 
meaning.  The  shock  was  violent,  the  grief  and 
horror  intense;  yet  her  first  conscious  feeling  was  a 
throb  of  relief,  almost  of  joy.  Her  man  was  a  leper! 
No  otlier  woman  would  ever  now  be  found  to  wed 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS   201 

with  him;  no  co-wife  would  come  into  her  hfe  to 
separate  her  from  him;  barren  woman  though  she  was, 
the  man  she  loved  would  be  hers  for  all  his  days,  and 
no  one  would  arise  to  dispute  with  her  her  right — 
her  sole  right — to  tend  and  comfort  and  cherish  him. 
The  medicine-man  turned  away  and  walked  slowly 
up  the  path  along  the  river  bank,  counting  the 
coppers  in  his  hand,  and  Minah  stood  where  he  had 
left  her,  gazing  after  him,  a  prey  to  tumultuous  and 
conflicting  emotions.  Then  a  realization  of  the 
tragedy  of  it  overwhelmed  her,  a  yearning,  pas- 
sionate pity  for  the  man  she  loved,  and  in  an  agony 
of  self-reproach  she  threw  herself  face  downw^ard 
on  the  ground.  Lying  there  among  the  warm  damp 
grasses,  clutching  them  in  her  hands,  and  burying 
her  face  in  them  lo  suppress  her  sobs,  she  prayed 
passionately  and  inarticulately,  prayed  to  the 
leprosy  itself,  as  though  it  were  a  sentient  being, 
entreating  it,  if  indeed  it  must  have  a  victim,  to  take 
her  cind  spare  her  husband.  Her  rudimentary  con- 
ceptions of  religion  did  not  bid  her  turn  to  God  in 
the  hour  of  her  despair;  and  though,  moved  by  the 
instinct  which  impels  all  human  beings  in  the  hour  of 
their  sorest  need  to  turn  for  aid  to  invisible  Powers, 
she  poured  out  plaint  and  supplication,  her  thoughts 
were  never  for  a  moment  directed  Heavenward. 
She  was  a  daughter  of  the  Muhammjidans,  unskilled 
in  letters,  ignorant  utterly  of  the  teachings  of  her 
faith,  and,  like  all  her  people,  she  was  a  Malay  first 
and  a  follower  of  the  Prophet  accidentally,  and,  as 
it  were,  l)y  an  afterthought.     'I'herefore  her  crv  was 


20e     DAUGHTER  OF  THE  IVrtTHAMIVLVDxVNS 

raised  to  the  demon  of  the  leprosy,  to  the  spirits  ot 
wind  and  air  and  pestilence,  and  to  all  manner  of 
unclean  beings  who  should  find  no  place  in  the 
mythology  of  a  true  believer.  The  old-world 
superstitions  of  the  Malays — the  natural  religion 
of  the  people,  tempered  a  little  by  the  bastard  Hin- 
duism disseminated  in  its  day  by  the  great  Brahman 
empire  of  Kambodia,  ere  ever  the  IVIuhammadan 
missionaries  came  to  tamper  with  their  simple 
])aganism — always  comes  uppermost  in  the  native 
mind  in  seasons  of  trouble  or  stress.  In  precisely 
the  same  way,  it  is  the  natural  man,  the  savage, 
that  ordinarily  rises  to  the  surface,  through  no  matter 
what  superimposed  strata  of  conventionalism,  in 
moments  of  strong  emotion.  But  these  things  had 
no  ])ower  to  help  or  comfort  ]\Iinali,  and  any  strength 
that  came  to  her  during  that  hour  that  she  passed, 
lying  prone  and  in  agony,  tearing  at  the  lush  gras.s 
and  stifling  her  lamentations,  was  drawn  from  her 
own  brave  and  generous  heart,  that  fountain  of 
willing  self-immolation  and  unutterable  tenderness, 
the  heart  of  a  woman  who  loves. 

The  evening  sun  was  sinking  amid  the  riot  of 
sj)lendour  which  attends  sunset  in  ]\Ialaya  when  at 
last  ]Minah  gathered  herself  together,  rearranged  her 
disordered  hair  and  crumpled  garments  with  deft 
feminine  fingers,  and  turned  her  face  homeward. 
Later  still,  when  the  evening  meal  had  been  dis- 
patched and  the  lights  extinguished,  ]Minah,  tenderly 
caressing  tlie  liead  of  her  husband,  which  lay  pil- 
lowed  upon   her  breast,    whispered   in   his  ears   the 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMAD ANS  203 

words  which  revealed  to  him  the  full  measure  of  his 
calamity.  No  more  appalling  message  can  come 
to  any  man  than  that  which  makes  known  to  him 
that  he  has  been  stricken  by  leprosy,  that  foulest., 
most  repulsive,  and  least  merciful  of  incurable  dis- 
eases; and  Mamat,  as  he  listened  to  his  wife's  falter- 
ing speech,  cowered  and  trembled  in  the  semi- 
darkness,  and  now  and  again,  as  he  rocked  his  body 
to  and  fro — for  instinctively  he  had  withdrawn  him- 
self from  Minah's  embrace — gave  vent  to  low  sobs, 
very  pitiful  to  hear. 

Leprosy  has  an  awful  power  to  blight  a  man  utterly, 
to  rob  him  alike  of  the  health  and  the  cleanliness  of 
his  body,  and  of  the  love  and  kindness  which  have 
made  life  sweet  to  him;  for  when  the  terror  falls 
upon  any  one,  even  those  who  held  him  in  closest 
affection  in  the  days  when  he  was  whole,  too  often 
turn  from  him  in  loathing  and  fear. 

As  slowly  and  with  pain  Mamat  began  to  under- 
stand clearly,  and  understanding,  to  realize  the  full 
meaning  of  the  words  that  fell  from  his  wife's  lips, 
he  drew  farther  and  farther  away  from  her,  in  spite 
of  her  restraining  hands,  and  sat  huddled  up  in  a 
corner  of  the  hut,  shaken  by  the  hard,  deep-drawn 
tears  that  come  to  a  grown  man  in  tlie  hour  of  misery, 
bringing  no  relief,  but  merely  adding  one  additional 
pang  to  the  intensity  of  his  suffering.  Vaguely  he 
told  himself  that,  since  ]Minah  must  be  filled  with 
horror  at  his  lightest  touch,  since  she  would  now 
surely  leave  him,  as  she  had  a  right  to  do,  lie  owed 
it  to  himself,  nnd  to  what  tattered  renmant  of  self- 


204     DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMAD ANS 

respect  was  left  to  him,  that  the  first  signal  for  separa- 
tion should  be  made  by  him.  It  would  ease  the 
situation  for  both  of  them,  he  felt,  if  from  the  begin- 
ning he  showed  her  plainly  that  he  expected  nothing 
but  desertion,  that  she  was  free  to  go,  to  leave  him, 
that  he  was  fully  prepared  for  the  words  that  should 
tell  him  of  her  intention,  though  for  the  moment  they 
remained  unspoken.  Therefore,  though  Minah  held 
out  her  arms  toward  him,  he  repulsed  her  gently,  and 
retreating  farther  into  the  shadows,  cried  warningly : 
"Have  a  care!  Have  a  care  lest  you  also  become 
infected  by  the  evil." 

Again  Minah  crept  toward  him,  with  arms 
outstretched  for  an  embrace,  and  again  he  evaded 
her  A  little  moonbeam  struggling  through  the  in- 
terstices of  the  wattled  walls  fell  full  upon  her  face, 
and  revealed  to  him  her  eyes  wide  with  sympathy, 
dewy  with  tears,  and  yearning  after  him  with  a  great 
love.  The  sight  was  so  unexpected  that  it  smote  him 
with  the  violence  of  a  blow,  sending  a  strange  thrill 
through  all  his  ruined  body,  and  gripping  his  heart 
so  that  he  fought  for  breath  like  one  distressed  by 
running. 

"Have  a  care!"  he  cried  again;  but  Minah  dis- 
regarded his  warning. 

"What  care  I.?"  she  replied.  "What  care  I?  Do 
you  think  that  my  love  is  so  slight  a  thing  that  it  will 
abide  with  you  only  in  the  days  of  your  prosperity.'' 
Am  I  like  imto  a  woman  of  the  town,  a  wanton  who 
loves  only  when  all  is  well  and  when  the  silver  dollars 
are  many  and  bright?    Am  I  so  fashioned  that  I 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS  20a 

have  no  care  for  anyone  save  for  myself?  O  Mamat, 
my  man  to  me,  fruit  of  my  heart !  After  these  years 
that  we  have  lived  together  in  love,  do  you  in  truth 
know  me  so  little?  Is  it  fitting  that  I,  your  wife, 
should  quit  you  now  because  the  evil  spirits  have 
caused  this  trouble  to  fall  upon  you?  Weh,  I  love 
you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  and  life  would  be  of  no 
use  to  me  without  you.  Come  to  me,  Weh,  come  to 
me!"     And  again  she  extended  her  arms  toward  him. 

For  long  Mamat  resisted,  fighting  against  the 
temptation  to  accept  her  sacrifice  sturdily;  but  at 
length  the  longing  for  human  sympathy,  and  for 
comfort  in  his  great  affliction — a  desire  which,  in 
time  of  trouble,  a  grown  man  feels  as  instinctively 
as  does  the  little  child  that,  having  come  by  some 
hurt,  runs  to  its  mother  to  be  petted  into  forgetful- 
ness  of  his  pain — proved  too  strong  for  him;  and  he 
sank  down,  sobbing  unrestrainedly,  with  his  head 
in  Minah's  lap,  and  with  her  kind  hands  fondling  and 
caressing  him. 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  Minah  made  the 
great  sacrifice,  which,  in  a  manner,  was  to  her  no 
sacrifice,  and  her  husband  brought  himself  to  ac- 
cept it  as  the  one  precious  thing  that  capricious  fate 
had  accorded  to  him. 

Two  or  three  years  slid  by  after  this,  and  as  Minah 
watched  her  husband,  she  marked  the  subtle  changes 
of  the  evil  to  which  he  was  a  prey  working  their  cruel 
will  upon  him.  He  had  been  far  gone  in  the  disease 
even  before  the  medicine-man  had  mustered  courage 


206     DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

to  name  it,  but  for  many  months  after  the  discovery 
little  change  was  noticeable.  Then,  as  is  its  wont, 
the  leprosy  took  a  forward  stride;  then  halted  for  a 
space,  only  to  advance  once  more,  but  now  with  more 
lagging  feet.  Thus,  though  the  physical  alterations 
wrought  by  the  ravages  of  the  disease  were  increas- 
ingly terrible  to  Minah,  who  marked  each  change 
take  place  graduallj^  step  by  step  and  from  day  to 
day,  beneath  her  eyes,  underlying  the  deformed  and 
featureless  face,  the  blind  eye-sockets,  the  aimless, 
swaying  limbs  with  their  maimed  and  discoloured 
extremities,  she  saw  as  clearly  as  ever  the  face,  the 
glance,  the  gestures  that  had  been  distinctive  of  her 
husband.  And  she  loved  this  formless,  mutilated 
thing  with  all  the  old  passionate  devotion,  and  with  a 
new  tenderness  that  awoke  all  her  maternal  instincts ; 
for  to  this  childless  woman  Mamat  was  now  both 
husband  and  the  baby  that  had  never  been  born  to  her. 

He  was  utterly  dependent  upon  her  now.  Twice 
daily  she  carried  him  upon  her  back  down  to  the 
river's  edge,  and  bathed  him  with  infinite  care.  To 
her  there  seemed  nothing  remarkable  in  the  act. 
She  had  done  it  for  the  first  time  one  day  long  before, 
when  his  feet  were  ])ecuHarly  sore  and  uncomfortable, 
had  done  it  laughingly,  half  in  jest,  and  he  had 
laughed,  too,  joining  in  her  merriment.  But  now  he 
had  become  so  helpless  that  there  was  no  other  way 
of  conveying  him  riverward,  and  she  daily  bore  him 
on  her  back  unthinkingly,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
The  weight  of  her  burden  diminished  as  time  went  on. 

In  the  same  way  she  had  gradually  fallen  into  the 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS   207 

habit  of  dressing  and  feeding  him,  having  performed 
these  services  for  him  now  and  again  before  there 
was  any  absolute  necessity  therefor;  but  latterly  his 
limbs  had  become  so  useless  that  lacking  her  aid  he 
would  have  gone  naked  and  have  died  of  starvation. 
She  never  lamented  now  that  Allah  or  the  Spirits — 
Minah  was  always  in  doubt  as  to  which  of  the  two 
had  the  larger  share  in  the  ordering  of  her  world — 
had  not  seen  fit  to  send  her  a  child  in  answer  to  her 
prayer.  ]Mamat  occupied  every  cranny  of  her  heart, 
and  in  his  helplessness  made  to  her  an  appeal  stronger 
far  thaD  *^liat  which  he  had  made  to  her  in  the  years 
of  his  unspoiled  manhood.  jNIost  Asiatic  women  of 
the  better  sort  find  the  role  of  mother  more  naturally 
congenial  than  that  of  wife,  and  all  that  was  best  in 
Minah's  nature  rose  up  to  fortify  her  in  her  trial. 
She  was  quite  blind  to  the  nobility  of  her  own  devo- 
tion, for  thoughts  of  self  played  but  a  small  part  in  the 
consciousness  of  this  daughter  of  the  Muhammadans, 
and  though  her  simple  vocabulary  contained  no  word 
to  express  the  idea  of  "duty,"  she  found  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  task  which  she  had  set  herself  a  deep 
content  that  transformed  the  squalor  of  her  life  into 
a  thing  of  wonder  and  beauty.  And  she  had  to  work 
for  both  her  husband  and  herself,  that  there  might  be 
rice  in  the  cooking-pot  and  clothing  for  their  bodies, 
so  her  labours  in  house  or  in  the  fields  was  never 
ended.  The  kindly  village  folk,  who  pitied  her, 
though  they  could  not  repress  an  occasional  jeer  at 
her  eccentric  devotion  to  a  leper,  lightened  her  tasks 
for  her  in  half  a  hundred  wavs,  and  Mtnah  found  her 


208    DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

rice  plot  tilled  and  the  crop  weeded,  and  the  precious 
grain  stored  safely,  without  clearly  knowing  how  the 
work  had  been  done  at  such  comparatively  slight  cost 
to  herself.  And  thus  Minah  and  her  man  spent  man\ 
years  of  the  joint  life  that  even  the  Demon  of  the  Lep^ 
rosy  had  been  powerless  to  rob  of  all  its  sweetness. 

It  was  some  time  after  the  white  men  had  placed 
Pahang  under  their  protection,  with  the  amiable 
object  of  quieting  that  troubled  and  lawless  land, 
that  a  new  terror  came  to  Minah.  Men  whispered 
together  in  the  villages  that  the  strange  pale-facetl 
folk  who  now  ruled  the  country'  had  many  ordinances 
unknown  to  the  old  Rajas.  The  eccentricities  and 
excesses  of  the  latter  were  hair-erecting  things,  but  to 
them  the  people  were  inured  by  the  accumulated 
experience  of  generations,  whereas  the  ways  of  the 
white  men  were  inconsequent  and  inscrutable.  The 
laws  which  they  promulgated  were  unhallowed  by 
Custom — the  greatest  of  all  ^Malayan  fetishes — and 
were  not  endeared  to  the  native  population  by 
age  or  tradition;  and  one  of  them,  it  was  said, 
provided  for  the  segregation  of  lepers.  In  other 
words,  it  was  the  habit  of  white  folk  to  sentence 
lepers  to  imprisonment  for  life,  precisely  as  though 
it  were  a  crime  for  a  man  to  fall  a  victim  to  a  disease ! 
Minah  listened  to  this  talk,  and  was  stricken  dumb 
with  misery  and  bewilderment,  as  the  village  elders, 
nuimbling  their  discontent  concerning  a  dozen  lying 
rumours,  spoke  also  of  this  measure  as  one  likely  to 
be  put  in  force  in  Pahang. 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS   209 

The  wanton  cruelty  of  the  notion  was  what  chiefly 
struck  her.  The  old  native  rulers  had  been  oppres- 
sive, with  hearts  like  flint  and  hands  of  crushing 
weight,  but  they  had  always  been  actuated  by  a 
personal  motive,  a  motive  which  their  people  could 
recognize  and  understand,  the  sort  of  motive 
whereby  the  peasants  felt  that  they  themselves  would 
have  been  impelled  if  their  relative  positions  had 
been  reversed.  But  why  should  the  white  folk  covet 
lier  man?  Why  should  they  scheme  to  rob  her  of 
him.  seeing  that  he  was  all  she  had,  and  they  could 
have  no  need  of  him.^  Whj',  too,  should  they  punish 
him  w^ith  imprisonment  for  a  calamity  for  which  he 
svas  in  no  wise  to  blame  .'^  What  abnormal  and  crim- 
inal instinct  did  the  strangers  hope  to  gratify  by  such 
an  aimless  piece  of  barbarity.^  In  imagination  she 
lieard  his  fretful  call,  his  mumbled  speech,  which  none 
save  she  could  interpret  or  understand;  and  the 
Ihought  of  the  pitifulness  of  his  condition,  of  his 
utter  helplessness,  if  deprived  of  her  love  and  com- 
j)anionship,  aroused  in  her  all  the  blind  combativen^  ss 
that  lurks  in  all  maternal  creatures.  In  his  de- 
fence she  would  cast  aside  all  fear  and  fight  for  him, 
as  a  tigress  fights  for  her  cubs. 

Minah  managed  with  difliculty  to  bribe  an  old 
crone  to  tend  ]Mamat  for  a  day  or  two.  Then  she  set 
off  for  Kuala  Lipis,  the  town  at  which,  she  had  lieard 
men  say,  tlie  white  men  had  tlieir  headquarters. 
Until  she  started  u])on  this  journey  downcountrv 
she  had  never  quitted  her  own  village,  and  to  her  the 
twenty  miles  of  river,  that  separated  her  home  from 


210   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

the  town,  was  a  road  of  wonder  through  an  undis- 
i-overed  country.  Kuala  Lipis  itself — the  ordered 
streets;  the  brick  buildings,  in  which  the  Chinese 
traders  had  their  shops;  the  lamp-posts;  the  native 
policemen  standing  at  the  corners  of  the  roads, 
shameless  folk  who  wore  trousers,  but  no  protecting 
sarong;  the  huge  block  of  Government  offices,  for 
to  her  this  far  from  imposing  pile  appealed  as  a 
stupendous  piece  of  architecture;  the  made  roads, 
smooth  and  metalled;  the  wonder  and  the  strange- 
ness of  it  all — dazed  and  frightened  her.  What  could 
the  white  men,  who  already  possessed  so  many 
marvellous  things,  want  with  her  man,  the  leper, 
that  they  should  desire  to  take  him  from  her?  And 
what  had  she  of  power  or  of  stratagem  to  appose  to 
their  might?     Her  heart  sank  within  her. 

She  asked  for  me,  since  I  had  bade  her  come  to  me 
if  she  were  in  trouble,  and  presently  she  made  her 
way  along  the  unfamiliar  roads  to  the  big  Residency 
on  the  river's  bank,  round  which  the  forest  clustered 
so  closely  in  the  beauty  which  no  hand  was  suffered 
to  deface.  She  was  brought  into  my  study,  anti 
seated  herself  upon  the  mat-covered  floor,  awed 
by  the  strangeness  of  her  siu'roundings,  and  gazing 
up  at  me  plaintively  out  of  those  great  eyes  of  hers, 
wliich  were  wet  with  tears.  Hers  was  the  simpk 
faith  of  one  who  has  lived  all  her  days  in  the  same 
])]ac;e,  whither  few  strangers  penetrate,  and  where 
exery  man  knows  his  neighbour  and  all  his  neigli- 
bours'  affairs.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that  her 
words  might  need  explanation  or  preface  of  any  kind, 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS     2U 

in  order  that  they  might  be  rendered  intelligible, 
and  so,  fixing  her  gaze  upon  my  face,  she  sobbed  out 
her  prayer  again  and  again, 

"O  suffer  me  to  keep  my  man  and  my  children. 
O  suffer  me  to  keep  my  man  and  my  children.  O 
suffer  them  not  to  be  taken  away  from  me.  Allah, 
Tuatiy  suffer  me  to  keep  my  man  and  my  children." 

I  knew,  of  course,  that  she  spoke  of  her  "man  and 
her  children"  merely  from  a  sense  of  decorum,  since 
it  is  coarse  and  indecent,  in  the  opinion  of  an  up- 
country  woman,  to  speak  of  "her  husband"  without 
euphonism,  even  though  she  be  childless;  but,  for 
the  moment,  I  supposed  that  she  was  the  wife  of 
some  man  accused  of  a  crime,  who  had  come  to  me 
seeking  the  aid  that  I  had  not  the  power  to  give. 

"What  has  your  man  done.^"  I  inquired 

"Done,  Tuan?"'  she  cried.  "What  could  he  do, 
seeing  that  he  is  as  one  already  dead.^*  Unless  men 
lifted  him  he  could  not  move.  But  suffer  him  not  to 
be  taken  from  me.  He  is  all  that  I  have,  and  in 
truth  I  cannot  live  without  him.  Hang  me  on  high, 
Timri,  sell  me  in  a  far  land,  burn  me  till  I  am  con- 
sumed, duck  me  till  I  be  drowned,  but  suffer  not  my 
man  and  my  children  to  be  taken  from  me.  I  shall 
die,  Tuan,  if  you  allow  this  thing  to  befall  us." 

Then  suddenly  the  mist  obscuring  my  memory 
rolled  away,  and  I  saw  the  face  of  this  woman,  as  I 
had  seen  it  once  before,  straining  under  a  terrible 
burden  on  the  banks  of  the  Jelai  River,  with  the  sun- 
set glow  and  the  dark  masses  of  foliage  making  o 
background  against  which  it  stood  revealed.     Then 


2U   DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

at  last  I  understood,  and  her  passionate  distress 
moved  me  intensely. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  question  of  the  necessity 
for  segregating  lepers  in  the  Malay  States  under 
British  protection  had  shortly  before  been  under 
discussion,  but  so  far  as  Pahang  was  concerned,  I 
had  succeeded  in  persuading  the  Federal  Government 
that  the  country  was  not  yet  ripe  for  any  such  action. 
Administration,  all  the  world  over,  is  from  first  to 
last  a  matter  of  compromise,  compromise  between 
what  is  right  and  what  is  expedient,  what  is  for  the 
material  welfare  of  the  population  and  what  is  ad- 
visable and  politic  in  existing  circumstances;  and  in 
dealing  with  a  new,  raw  country,  whose  people  prior 
to  our  coming  had  been  living,  to  all  intents  tnul 
purposes,  in  the  twelfth  century,  great  caution  luul 
to  be  exercised  by  those  of  us  who  were  engaged  in 
the  delicate  task  of  transferring  them  bodily  into  i< 
nineteenth-century  atmosphere.  Leper  asylums  in 
the  tropics  are,  at  best,  deplorable  institutions.  One 
may  admit  their  necessity,  but  the  perennial  dis- 
content and  unhappiness  of  their  inmates  are  prover- 
bial, and  even  the  devoted  service  rendered  to  the 
unfortunates  by  so  many  European  women  belonging 
to  religious  orders,  fails  greatly  to  ameliorate  their 
lot.  When  lepers  are  consigned  to  the  charge  of 
ordinary  paid  attendants,  the  residts  are  even  more 
d(^pressing.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  keen  relief, 
therefore,  that  I  was  now  able  to  reassure  Minah. 

"Have  no  fear,  sister,"  I  said,  making  use  of  the 
kiiullv  Malayan  vocative  which  makes  all  the  world 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMIVIADANS     213 

akin.  "Your  man  shall  not  be  taken  from  you. 
Who  is  it  that  seeks  to  separate  you  from  him?" 

"Men  say  it  is  an  order,"  she  replied. 

To  the  Oriental  an  "order"  is  a  kind  of  impersonal 
monster,  invincible  and  impartial,  a  creature  that 
respects  no  man,  and  is  cruel  to  all  alike. 

"Have  no  fear,"  I  said.  "It  is  true  that  I  have 
bidden  the  headmen  of  the  villages  report  to  me 
concerning  the  number  of  those  afflicted  with  the 
evil  sickness,  but  this  is  only  done  that  we  may  be 
able  to  aid  those  who  suffer  from  it.  Moreover,  in 
this  land  of  Paliang,  the  number  is  small,  and  the 
infection  does  not  spread.  Therefore,  sister,  have 
no  fear,  and  believe  me,  come  what  may,  the  Govern- 
ment will  not  separate  you  from  your  man.  Return 
now  in  peace  to  your  home,  and  put  all  trouble  from 
you.  Moreover,  if  aught  comes  to  sorrow  you, 
remember  that  I,  or  another,  am  here  to  listen  to 
your  plaint." 

As  I  finished  speaking,  the  woman  before  me  was 
transformed.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  her  brown 
skin  faded  suddenly  to  a  grayish  tint  with  the  inten- 
sity of  her  relief;  and  before  I  could  stay  her,  she  had 
thrown  herself  upon  the  matting  at  my  feet,  encircling 
them  with  her  warm  clasp.  I  leaped  up,  hinnbled 
exceedingly  that  such  a  woman  should  so  abase  her- 
self before  me,  and  angered  by  an  Englishman's 
instinctive  hatred  of  a  scene;  and  as  I  stooped  to  dis- 
engage her  hands,  I  heard  her  murmur,  almost  in  a 
"«-'hisper. 

"Your  servant   Itath  little  skill  iu  speech,  but   in 


214  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  MUHAMMADANS 

truth,  Tiian,  you  have  made  me  happy — happy,  as 
though  the  moon  had  fallen  into  my  lap — happy 
as  is  the  barren  wife  to  whom  it  is  given  to  bear  a 
son! 

And,  as  I  looked  into  her  face,  it  seemed  to  me  to 
shine  with  the  beauty  of  her  soul. 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  OF  KIJLOP  SUMBING 

HE  WAS  an  ill  fellow  to  look  at — so  men  who 
knew  him  tell  me — large  of  limb  and  very 
powerfully  built.  To  his  broad  and  ugly 
face  a  peculiarly  sinister  expression  was  imparted  by 
a  harelip,  which  left  most  of  the  upper  gums  ex- 
posed. It  was  to  this  latter  embellishment  that  he 
owed  alike  his  vicious  temper  and  the  name  by  which 
he  was  known.  That  his  disposition  should  not 
have  been  of  the  sweetest  was  natural  enough,  for 
women  did  not  love  to  look  upon  the  gash  in  his  lip; 
and  whereas,  in  the  land  of  his  birth,  all  first-born 
male  children  are  called  Kulop,  his  nickname  of 
Sumhing — which  means  "the  chipped  one" — dis- 
tinguished him  unpleasantly  from  his  fellows,  and 
reminded  him  of  his  calamity  whenever  he  heard  it. 
He  was  a  native  of  Perak,  and  he  made  his  way 
alone,  through  the  untrodden  Sakai  country,  into 
Pahang.  That  is  practically  all  that  is  known  con- 
cerning his  origin.  The  name  of  the  district  in 
which  Kulop  Sumbing  had  his  home  represented 
nothing  to  the  natives  of  the  Jelai  Valley,  into  which 
he  strayed  on  the  other  side  of  the  Peninsula,  and 
now  no  man  knows  from  what  part  of  Perak  this 
adventurer  came.  The  manner  of  his  coming,  how- 
ever,   excited   the  admiration  and    impressed   itself 

21.1 


216  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

upon  the  imagination  of  the  people  of  Pahang — who 
love  pluck  almost  as  heartily  as  they  abominate  toil 
— so  the  tale  of  his  doings  is  still  told,  though  these 
things  happened  nearly  forty  years  ago. 

Kulop  Sumbing  probably  held  a  suflBciently  cynical 
opinion  on  the  subject  of  the  character  of  his  coun- 
trywomen, who  are  among  the  most  venal  of  their  sex. 
He  knew  that  no  woman  could  love  him  for  his 
personal  attractions,  and  that  those  who  would  be 
willing  to  put  up  with  him  and  with  his  disfigurement 
would  be  themselves  undesirable.  On  the  other 
hand,  experience  convinced  him  that  many  would  be 
ready  to  lavish  their  favours  upon  him  if  his  money- 
bags were  well  lined.  Therefore  he  determined  to 
grow  rich  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  and  in  order 
to  compass  this  end  he  looked  about  for  some  one 
whom  he  could  conveniently  plunder.  For  this 
purpose  Perak  was  played  out.  The  law  of  the  white 
men  could  not  be  bribed  by  a  successful  robber,  and 
of  recent  years  the  chances  of  evading  it  had  been 
much  restricted.  In  these  circumstances,  he  turned 
his  eyes  across  the  border  to  Pahang,  which  was  still 
ruled  by  its  own  Sultan  and  his  chiefs,  and  which 
bore  a  notable  reputation'  as  a  land  in  wliich  ill 
things  might  be  done  with  impunit}',  to  the  great 
profit  and  contentment  of  him  who  did  them. 

He  had  a  love  of  adventure,  was  absolutely  fear- 
less, and  was,  moreover,  a  good  man  with  his  weapons. 
To  put  these  possessions  to  their  proper  uses"  more 
elbow-room  was  necessary  than  Perak  afforded,  for 
there  a  man  was  forever  haunted  by  the  threatening 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  ^217 

shadow  of  the  central  gaol;  and  as  he  did  not  share 
the  ^Malay's  instinctive  dread  of  travelling  alone  in 
the  jungle,  he  decided  to  make  a  lone-hand  raid 
into  the  Sakai  country,  which  lies  between  Perak 
and  Pahang.  Here  he  would  be  safe  from  the  grip 
of  the  white  man's  hand,  hidden  frorti  the  sight  of  the 
Government's  "eyes,"  as  the  Malays  so  inappro- 
priately name  our  somi^olent  policemen;  and  here, 
he  felt  sure,  much  wealth  would  come  to  the  ready 
hand  that  knew  full  well  how  to  seize  it.  To  Kulop 
Sumbing,  reasoning  thus,  the  matter  presented  itself 
in  the  light  of  a  purely  business  proposition.  Such 
;ibstractions  as  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  or  questions 
of  ethics  or  morality  did  not  enter  into  the  calcula- 
tion; for  the  average  unregenerate  Malay  is  honest 
and  law-abiding  just  as  long  as  it  suits  his  convenience 
to  be  so,  and  not  more  than  sixty  seconds  longer. 
Virtue  for  virtue's  sake  makes  not  the  faintest  appeal 
to  him,  but  a  love  of  right-doing  may  occasionally  be 
galvanized  into  a  sort  of  paralytic  life  within  him  if 
the  consequences  of  crime  are  kept  very  clearly  and 
very  constantly  before  his  eyes.  He  will  then  discard 
sin  because  sinning  has  become  inconvenient.  So 
Kiilop  Sumbing  kicked  the  dust  of  law-restrained 
Perak  from  his  bare  brown  soles,  and  set  out  for  the 
Sakai  country  in  the  remote  interior  of  Pahang,  into 
which  even  the  limping,  lop-sided  justice  of  a  native 
administration  made  no  pretence  to  penetrate. 

He  carried  with  him  all  the  rice  that  he  could  bear 
upon  his  shoulders,  two  dollars  in  silver,  a  little  salt 
and  tobacco,  a  handsome  /rm-,  and  a  long  spear  with 


218  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

a  broad  and  shining  blade.  His  supplies  of  foo/ 
were  to  last  him  until  the  first  Sakai  camps  shouK^ 
be  reached,  and  after  that,  he  told  himself,  all  that 
he  might  need  would  "rest  at  the  tip  of  his  dagger." 
He  did  not  propose  seriously  to  begin  his  operations 
until  the  mountain  range,  which  fences  the  Perak 
boundary,  had  been  crossed,  so  he  was  content  to 
leave  the  Sakai  villages  on  the  western  slope  un- 
pillaged.  He  impressed  some  of  the  naked  and 
scared  aborigines  to  serve  as  bearers,  and  levied 
such  supplies  as  he  required ;  and  the  Sakai,  who  were 
glad  to  get  rid  of  him  so  cheaply,  handed  him  on 
from  village  to  village  with  the  greatest  alacrity. 
The  base  of  the  jungle-covered  mountains  of  the 
Ulterior  was  reached  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  and 
Ktilop  and  his  Sakai  began  to  drag  themselves  vip 
the  steep  ascent  by  means  of  roots,  trailing  creepers, 
and  slender  saplings. 

Upon  a  certain  day  they  attained  the  summit  of  a 
nameless  mountain,  and  threw  themselves  down, 
panting  for  breath,  upon  the  bare,  circular  dnim- 
ming-ground  of  an  argus  pheasant.  On  the  crest  of 
nearly  e\;ery  hill  and  hogsback  in  tlie  interior  of  the 
Peninsula  tliese  drumniiiig-groinuls  are  found,  patches 
of  naked  earth  trodden  to  tlie  hardness  of  a  threshing- 
floor,  and  carpeted  with  a  thin  litter  of  dry  twigs. 
Sometimes,  if  you  keej)  very  still,  you  may  hear  the 
rocks  strutting  and  dancing,  and  mightily  thumping 
the  ground,  l)ut  no  man,  it  is  said,  has  ever  actually 
seen  the  birds  going  through  their  vainglorious  per- 
formance.    At  night-time  their   challenging  yell- 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  ^19 

incredibly  loud,  discordant,  yet  clear — rings  out 
across  the  valleys,  waking  a  thousand  echoes,  and  the 
cry  is  taken  up  and  thrown  backward  and  forward 
from  hill-cap  to  hill-cap.  Judging  by  the  frequency 
and  the  ul^iquity  of  their  yells,  the  argus  pheasants 
must  be  very  nmnerous  in  the  jungles  of  the  interior, 
hut  so  deftly  do  they  hide  themselves  that  they  are 
rarely  seen,  and  the  magnificence  of  their  plumage, 
wliich  rivals  that  of  the  peacock,  is  only  famihar 
to  us  because  the  birds  are  often  trapped  by  the 
Malays. 

At  the  spot  where  Kulop  and  his  Sakal  lay  the 
Lrees  grew  sparsely.  The  last  two  hundred  feet  of 
the  ascent  had  been  a  severe  climb,  and  the  ridge, 
which  formed  the  summit,  stood  clear  of  the  tree- 
tops  which  had  their  roots  halfway  up  the  slope. 
As  he  lay  panting  Kulop  Sumbing  gazed  down  for 
the  first  time  upon  the  eastern  side  of  the  Peninsula, 
the  theatre  in  which  ere  long  he  proposed  to  play 
a  very  daring  part.  At  his  feet  were  tree-tops  of 
every  shade  of  green,  from  the  tender,  brilliant  colour 
which  we  associate  with  young  corn  to  the  deep  and 
sombre  hue  which  is  almost  black.  The  forest  fell 
away  beneath  him  in  a  broad  slope,  the  contour  of 
each  individual  tree,  and  the  gray,  white,  or  black 
lines  which  marked  their  trunks  or  brandies  grow- 
ing less 'and  less  distinct,  until  the  jvmgle  covering 
the  plain  became  a  blurred  wash  of  colour  that  had 
moi-e  of  blue  than  green  in  it.  Here  and  there,  very 
far  away,  the  sunlight  smote  something  that  an- 
swered with  a  dazzling  flash,  like  the  mirror  of  a 


220  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

heliograph,  and  this,  Kulop  knew,  was  the  broad 
reaches  of  a  river.  The  forest  hid  all  traces  of  human 
habitation  or  cultivation,  and  no  sign  of  life  or  move- 
ment was  visible  save  only  a  solitary  kite  circling 
and  veering  on  outstretched,  motionless  wings,  and 
the  slight,  uneasy  swaying  of  some  of  the  taller  trees 
as  a  faint  breeze  sighed  gently  over  the  jungle.  Here, 
on  the  summit  of  the  mountains,  the  air  was  damp 
and  chilly,  and  a  cold  wind  was  blowing,  while  the 
sun  seemed  to  have  lost  half  its  usual  power;  but  in 
the  plain  below  the  earth  lay  sweltering  beneath  the 
perpendicular  rays,  and  the  heat-haze  danced  and 
shimmered  above  the  forest  like  the  hot  air  above  a 
furnace. 

During  the  next  few  days  Kulop  Siimbing  and  his 
Perak  Sakai  made  their  way  down  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  mountains,  and  through  the  silent  forests, 
which  are  given  over  to  game  and  to  the  really  wild 
jungle-folk,  who  fly  at  the  approach  of  human  beings, 
and  discover  their  proximity  as  instinctively  as  do 
the  beasts  which  share  with  them  their  home. 

Kulop  and  his  people  passed  several  abandoned 
camps  belonging  to  these  wild  Sakai — mere  rough 
hurdles  of  boughs  and  leaves,  canted  on  end  to  form 
lean-to  huts;  but  of  their  oAMiers  they  saw  no  trace, 
for  even  when  these  people  trade  with  the  tamer 
Sakai  they  adopt  the  immemorial  custom -of  silent 
barter  and  never  suffer  themselves  to  be  seen  by  the 
men  with  whom  they  do  business.  Their  principal 
stock  in  trade  are  the  long,  straight  reeds  of  which  the 
inner  casing  of  the  blowpipe  is  made,  and  these  they 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  221 

deposit  in  certain  well-known  places  in  the  jungle, 
whence  thej^  are  removed  by  the  tamer  tribesmen, 
who  replace  them  by  salt,  knife-blades,  flints  and 
steels  and  other  similar  articles.  Now  and  again 
a  successful  slave-raid  has  resulted  in  the  capture  of  a 
few  of  these  savages,  but  their  extraordinary  elusive- 
ness,  added  to  the  fact  that  they  live  the  life  of  the 
primitive  nomadic  hunter,  roaming  the  forest  in 
small  family  groups,  renders  them  difficult  to  locate, 
und  impossible  to  round  up  in  any  large  numbers. 

Kulop  Siimbing,  of  course,  took  very  little  interest 
in  them,  for  to  his  utilitarian  mind  people  who  pos- 
sessed no  property  could  make  no  claim  upon  the 
attention  of  a  serious  man.  Therefore,  he  pushed  on 
through  the  wild  Sakai  country,  following  game  paths 
and  wading  down  the  beds  of  shallow  streams  until 
the  upper  waters  of  the  Betok,  the  principal  tributary 
of  the  Jelai  River,  were  struck.  Here  bamboos  were 
felled,  a  long,  narrow  raft  was  constructed,  and 
Killop  Sumbing,  dismissing  his  Perak  Sakai,  began 
the  descent  of  the  unknown  river.  He  knew  only 
that  the  stream  upon  which  he  was  navigating  would 
lead,  if  followed  far  enough,  into  the  country  in- 
liabited  by  Malays;  that  somewhere  between  it  and 
liimself  lay  a  tract  peopled  by  semi-civilized  Sakai; 
that  he  proposed  to  despoil  the  latter,  and  would  have 
some  difficulty  in  preventing  the  Pahang  Malays  from 
[)illaging  him  in  their  turn;  but  he  fared  onward  un- 
dismayed, alone  save  for  his  weapons,  and  was 
filled  with  a  sublime  confidence  in  his  ability  to 
plunder  the  undiscovered  land  that  lay  before  him. 


222  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  there  was  some- 
thing bordering  upon  the  heroic  in  the  action  of  this 
unscrupulous  man  with  the  marred  face,  who  ghded 
gently  down  the  river  on  this  wild,  lone-hand  raid. 
Even  the  local  geography  was  unknown  to  him. 
For  aught  he  knew,  the  stream  might  be  beset  by  im- 
passable rapids  and  by  dangers  that  would  task  his 
skill  and  courage  to  the  utmost;  and  even  if  he 
triumphed  over  natural  obstacles,  the  enmity  which 
his  actions  would  arouse  would  breed  up  foemen  for 
him  wherever  he  went.  He  was  going  forth  de- 
liberately to  war  against  heavy  odds,  yet  he  poled 
his  raft  down  the  river  with  deft  punts,  and  gazed 
<;alnily  ahead  of  him  with  a  complete  absence  of  fear. 

It  was  noon  upon  the  second  day  of  his  lonely 
journey  down  the  Betok  that  Kulop  sighted  a  large 
Sakai  camp,  evidently  the  property  of  semi-tame 
tribesfolk,  set  in  a  clearing  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
rivei.  The  sight  of  a  Malay  coming  from  such  an 
unusual  quarter  filled  the  jungle-people  with  super- 
stitious fear,  and  in  a  few  minutes  every  man,  woman, 
wnd  child  had  fled  into  the  forest. 

Kulop  went  through  the  ten  or  fifteen  squalid  huts 
which  stood  in  the  clearing,  and  an  occasional  grunt 
of  satisfaction  signified  that  he  approved  of  the 
stores  of  valuable  gum  lying  stowed  away  in  the 
sheds.  He  calculated  that  there  could  not  be  less 
than  seven  pikul,  a  quantity  that  would  fetch  a  good 
six  hundred  Mexican  dollars,  even  when  the  poor 
price  ruling  n  the  most  distant  Malayan  villages  of 
the  interior  was  taken  into  consideration.     This,  of 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  2^3 

course,  was  long  before  such  a  product  as  plantation 
rubber  had  come  into  existence  in  the  East,  and  wild 
gutta  was  much  sought  after  by  Europeans  in  the 
towns  of  the  straits  settlements.  Now,  six  hun- 
dred dollars  represented  a  small  fortune  to  a  man  of 
Kulop  Sumbing's  standing,  and  the  sight  of  so  goodly 
a  store  of  gum  filled  him  with  delight.  But  here  he 
found  himself  faced  by  a  problem  of  some  difficulty. 
How  was  the  precious  stuff  to  be  carried  downstream 
into  the  Malayan  districts  of  Pahang.''  His  raft 
would  hold  about  one  pikul,  and  he  felt  reasonably 
certain  that  the  Sakai,  who  were  fairly  used  to  being 
j)lundered  by  their  Malayan  neighbours,  would  not 
interfere  with  him  very  seriously  if  he  chose  to  re- 
move that  quantity  and  to  leave  the  rest.  But  the 
thought  of  the  remaining  six  pikul  was  too  much  for 
him.  He  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  abandon  it; 
and  of  a  sudden  he  was  seized  by  a  dull  anger  against 
the  Sakai  who,  he  almost  persuaded  himself,  were  in 
some  sort  defrauding  him  of  his  just  dues. 

Seating  himself  on  the  threshold-beam  in  the  door- 
way of  one  of  the  huts,  he  lighted  a  rokok — a  ciga- 
rette of  coarse  Javanese  tobacco  encased  in  a  dried 
shoot  of  the  nipah  palm,  and  set  himself  to  think 
out  the  situation  and  to  await  the  return  of  the 
tribesmen;  and  ever,  as  he  dwelt  upon  the  injury 
which  these  miscreants  were  like  to  inflict  upon  him 
if  they  refused  to  help  him  to  remove  the  gutta, 
his  heart  waxed  hotter  and  hotter  against  them. 

Presently  two  scared  brown  faces,  scarred  with 
blue  tattoo-marks  on  cheek  and  forehead,  and  sur- 


224  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

mounted  by  frowzy  mops  of  sun-bleached  hair,  rose 
stealthily  above  the  level  of  the  flooring  a  dozen 
yards  away,  and  peeped  at  him  with  shy,  distrustful 
eyes. 

Kulop  turned  in  their  direction,  and  the  bobbing 
lieads  disappeared  with  astonishing  alacrity. 

"Come  hither,"  Kulop  commanded. 

The  heads  reappeared  once  more,  and  in  a  few 
brief  words  Kulop  bade  their  owners  have  no  fear, 
but  go  back  into  the  forest  and  fetch  the  rest  of  the 
tribesfolk. 

After  some  further  interchange  of  words  and  con- 
"iiderable  delay  and  hesitation,  the  two  Sakai  sidled 
off  into  the  jungle,  and  presently  a  crowd  of  squalid 
•aborigines  issued  from  the  shelter  of  the  trees  and 
underwood.  They  stood  huddled  together  in  an 
nne'asy  group,  gazing  curiously  at  Kulop,  while  with 
light  feet  they  trod  the  ground  gingerly,  with  every 
muscle  braced  for  a  swift  dart  into  cover  at  the  first 
alarin  of  danger. 

"Who  among  you  is  the  headman.^"  asked  Kiiloj). 

"Your  servant  is  the  headman,"  replied  an  ancient 
Sakai. 

He  stood  forward  a  little  as  he  spoke,  trembling 
slightly  as  he  glanced  up  furtively  at  the  Malay, 
who  sat  cross-legged  in  the  doorway  of  the  hut.  His 
straggling  mop  of  hair  was  almost  white,  and  his 
skin  was  dry  and  creased  and  wrinkled.  He  was 
naked,  as  were  all  his  peo})le,  save  for  a  dirty  loin- 
clout  of  bark  ck^tli,  which  use  had  reduced  to  a  mere 
w'hisp.     His  tliiri  flanks  and  buttocks  were  gray  with 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  22.^ 

the  warm  wood  ashes  in  which  he  had  been  lying 
when  Kulop's  coming  interrupted  his  midday  snooze. 

"Bid  these,  your  children,  build  me  eight  rafts  of 
bamboo,  strong  and  firm,  and  moor  them  at  the  foot 
of  the  rapid  yonder,"  ordered  Kulop.  "And  hearken, 
be  not  slow,  for  I  love  not  indolence." 

"It  can  be  done,"  said  the  Sakai  headman  sub- 
missively. 

"That  is  well,"  returned  Kulop.  "And  I  counsel 
you  to  see  to  it  with  speed,  for  I  am  a  man  very  prone 
to  wrath." 

Casting  furtive  glances  at  the  Malay,  the  Sakai 
set  to  work,  and  by  nightfall  the  new  rafts  were 
completed.  For  his  part,  Kiilop  of  the  Harelip, 
who  had  declared  that  he  loved  not  indolence,  lay 
upon  his  back  on  the  floor  of  the  chief's  hut,  while 
I  lie  jungle-people  toiled  for  him,  and  roared  a  love 
song  in  a  harsh,  discordant  voice  to  the  hypothetica) 
lady  whose  heart  was  presently  to  be  subdued  b\'  tht 
wealth  which  was  now  almost  within  his  grasj). 

Kulop  slept  that  night  in  the  Sakai  hut  among  tin 
restless  jungle-folk.  Up  here  in  the  foothills  the  aii 
was  chilly,  and  the  fire,  which  the  Sakai  never  will- 
ingly let  die,  smoked  and  smouldered  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor.  Half  a  dozen  long  logs,  all  pointing  to  a 
common  centre,  like  the  spokes  of  a  broken  wheel, 
met  at  the  point  where  the  fire  burnetl  red  in  the 
darkness,  and  between  these  boughs,  in  the  warm 
gray  ashes,  men,  women,  and  children  sprawled  in 
every  attitude  into  which  their  naked  brown  limbs 
coukl    twisl    themselves.     Ever   and   anon    some   of 


2^0  THE  J.ONE  HAND  RAID 

them  would  arise  and  tend  the  fire,  and  then  would 
group  themselves  squatting  around  the  blaze,  and 
jabber  in  the  jerky,  monosyllabic  jargon  of  the  abori- 
gines. The  pungent  smoke  enshrouded  them,  and 
their  eyes  waxed  red  and  watery,  but  they  heeded 
it  not,  for  the  warmth  of  fire  is  one  of  the  Sakai's 
few  luxuries,  and  the  discomforts  connected  with  it 
are  to  them  the  traditional  crumpled  rose  leaf. 

And  Kiilop  of  the  Harelip  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

The  dawn  broke  grayly,  for  a  mist  hung  low  over 
the  forest,  white  as  driven  snow,  and  cold  and  clammy 
as  the  forehead  of  a  corpse.  The  naked  Sakai  peeped 
shiveringly  from  the  doorways  of  their  huts,  and  then 
went  shuddering  back  to  the  grateful  warmth  of 
their  fires,  and  the  frowsy  atmosphere  within. 

Kulop  alone  made  his  way  down  to  the  river  bank, 
ant!  there  performed  his  morning  ablutions  with 
scrupulous  care,  for  whatever  laws  of  (Jod  or  man  a 
Malay  may  disregard,  he  never  is  unmindful  of  the 
virtue  of  personal  cleanliness  which,  in  an  Oriental, 
is  ordinarily  of  more  innnediate  importance  to  his 
neighbours  than  all  the  godliness  in  the  world. 

His  ablutions  completed,  Kulop  climbed  the  steep 
bank,  and  standing  outside  the  headman's  hut, 
summoned  the  Sakai  from  their  lairs  in  strident 
tones,  bidding  them  hearken  to  his  words.  They 
stood  or  squatted  before  him  in  the  white  mist, 
through  which  the  sun,  just  peeping  above  the 
jungle,  was  beginning  to  send  long  slanting  rays  of 
dazzling  white  light. 

'Vhcx  were  cold  and  miserable — ^this  little  crowd  of 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  227 

naked  savages — and  they  shivered  and  scratched 
their  bodies  restlessly.  The  trilhng  of  the  thrushes, 
and  the  morning  chorus  raised  by  the  other  birds, 
came  to  their  ears,  mingled  with  the  whooping  ot 
troops  of  anthropoid  apes,  but  this  joyous  music 
held  no  inspiration  for  the  Sakai  The  extraordinary 
dampness  of  the  air  during  the  first  hours  after  day- 
break, in  these  remote  jungle  places  of  the  Peninsula, 
chills  men  to  the  marrow  and  is  appallingly  depress- 
ing. Moreover,  the  Sakai  are  very  sensitive  to  cold, 
and  it  is  when  dawn  has  roused  them  and  the  fierce 
heat  of  the  day  has  not  yet  broken  through  the  mists 
to  cheer  them,  that  their  thin  courage  and  vitality 
are  at  the  lowest  ebb. 

"Listen  to  me,  you  Sakai,"  cried  Kulop  in  a  loud 
and  wrathful  voice;  and  at  the  word  those  of  his 
liearers  who  were  standing  erect  made  haste  to  as- 
sume a  humble  squatting  posture,  and  the  shiverings 
occasioned  by  the  cold  were  increased  by  tremblings 
horn  of  fear. 

If  there  be  one  thing  that  the  jungle-folk  dislike 
more  than  another,  it  is  to  be  called  "Sakai"  to  their 
faces,  and  they  are  never  so  addressed  by  a  Malay 
unless  he  wishes  to  bully  them.  The  word,  which 
lias  long  ago  lost  its  original  meaning,  signifies  a 
slave,  or  some  say,  a  dog;  but  by  the  aborigines  it  is 
regarded  as  the  most  offensive  epithet  in  the  ^lalayan 
vocabulary.  In  their  own  tongue  they  speak  ot 
lliemselves  as  sen-oi — which  means  a  "man" — a& 
opposed  to  goh,  which  signifies  "foreigner";  for  even 
the  Sakai  has  some  vestiges  of  pride,  if  you  know 


228  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

where  to  look  for  it,  and  from  his  point  of  view  ilie 
people  of  his  own  race  are  the  only  human  beings 
who  are  entitled  to  be  classed  as  "men,"  without  any 
qualifying  term.  When  speaking  Malay,  they  allude 
to  themselves  as  Orang  Buldt — men  of  the  hills; 
Orang  Utan — men  of  the  jungle;  or  Orang  Ddlam— 
the  folk  who  live  within,  viz.,  within  the  forest. 
They  love  to  be  spoken  of  as  raayat — peasants,  or 
as  raayat  raja — the  king's  people;  and  the  Malays, 
who  delight  in  nicely  graded  distinctions  of  vocative 
in  addressing  men  of  various  ranks  and  classes, 
habitually  use  these  terms  when  conversing  with  the 
Sakai,  in  order  that  the  hearts  of  the  jungle-folk  may 
be  warmed  within  them.  When,  therefore,  the 
objectionable  term  "Sakai"  is  applied  to  them,  the 
forest-dwellers  know  that  mischief  and  trouble  are 
threatening  them,  and  as  they  are  as  timid  as  any 
other  wild  animals  of  the  woods,  they  are  "forthwith 
stricken  with  terror. 

"Listen,  you  accursed  Sakai,"  Kulop  of  the  Hare- 
lip cried  again,  waving  his  spear  above  his  head. 
"Mark  well  my  words,  for  already  I  seem  to  hear  the 
warm  earth  calling  to  the  coffin  planks  in  which  your 
carcasses  shall  presently  lie  if  you  fail  to  do  my 
bidding.  Go  speedily  and  gather  up  all  the  gutta 
that  is  stored  in  your  dwellings,  and  bring  it  hither 
Lo  me  lest  some  worse  thing  befall  you." 

The  Sakai,  eying  him  fearfully,  decided  that  they 
had  to  deal  with  a  determined  person  whose  irritable 
temper  would  quickly  translate  itself  from  words 
into   deeds.     Slowly,    therefore,    they   rose   uj)   and 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  229 

walked,  each  man  to  liis  hut,  with  lagging  steps. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  great  balls  of  rubber,  with  a 
hole  pu^iched  in  each  through  which  a  rattan  line 
was  passed,  lay  heaped  upon  the  ground  at  Kiilop's 
feet.  During  the  absence  of  the  men,  the  women  and 
children  had  almost  imperceptibly  dribbled  away, 
and  most  of  them  were  now  hidden  from  sight  behind 
the  huts  or  the  felled  trees  of  the  clearing.  But  the 
men  when  they  returned  brought  with  them  some- 
thing as  well  as  the  rubber,  for  each  of  the  Sakai 
now  held  in  his  hand  a  long  and  slender  spear  fash- 
ioned from  a  bamboo.  The  weapon  sounds  harm- 
less enough,  but  these  wooden  blades  are  strong,  and 
their  points  and  edges  are  as  sharp  as  steel.  Kulop 
Sumbing  was  shocked  and  outraged  by  this  insolent 
suggestion  of  resistance,  and  arrived  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  prompt  action  must  supplement  roug]\ 
words. 

"Cast  away  your  spears,  you  swine  of  the  forest!' 
he  yelled. 

Almost  all  the  Sakai  did  as  Kulop  bade  them,  fo\ 
the  Malay  stood  for  them  as  the  embodiment  of  the 
dominant  race,  and  years  of  oppression  and  wron*^ 
have  made  the  jungle  folk  very  docile  in  the  presence 
of  the  more  civilized  brown  man.  The  old  Cliief, 
however,  clutched  his  weapon  In  his  trembling  hands^ 
and  his  terrified  eyes  ran  round  the  group  of  his 
kinsman,  vainly  inciting  them  to  follow  his  example. 
The  next  moment  his  gaze  was  recalled  to  Killop  of 
the  Harelip  by  a  sharp  pjun  in  his  right  shoulder, 
as  the  spear  of  the  Malay  transfixed  It.     His  ovm. 


230  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

spear  fell  from  his  powerless  arm,  and  the  little 
crowd  of  Sakai  broke  and  fled.  But  a  series  of 
cries  and  threats  from  Kulop,  as  he  ran  around  them, 
herding  them  as  a  collie  herds  sheep,  brought  them 
presently  to  a  standstill. 

No  thought  of  further  resistance  remained  in  their 
minds,  and  the  gutta  was  quickly  loaded  on  to  the 
rafts,  and  the  plundered  Sakai  impressed  as  crews  for 
them.  The  rafts  were  fastened  to  one  another,  by 
Kulop's  orders,  by  a  stout  piece  of  rattan,  to  pre- 
vent straying  or  desertion,  and  the  conqueror  sat 
at  ease  on  a  low  platform  in  the  centre  of  the  rear- 
most raft,  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  all,  and  main- 
taining his  mastery  over  the  shuddering  juxigle-folk 
by  frequent  threats  and  admonitions. 

The  wounded  Chief,  left  behind  in  his  hut,  sent 
two  youths  through  the  forest  to  bid  their  fellow 
tribesmen  make  ready  the  poison  for  their  blowpipe 
darts,  for  he  knew  that  no  one  would  now  dare  to 
attack  Kulop  of  the  Harelip  at  close  quarters.  But 
the  poison  which  the  Sakai  distil  from  the  resin  of  the 
tpoh  tree  requires  some  time  for  its  preparation,  and 
if  it  is  to  be  used  with  effect  upon  a  human  being 
or  any  large  animal,  a  specially  strong  solution  is 
necessary.  Above  all,  if  it  is  to  do  its  work  properly, 
it  must  be  newly  brewed.  Thus  it  was  that  Kulop 
Sumbing  had  time  to  load  his  rafts  with  gutta  tiiken 
from  two  other  Sakai  camps,  and  to  pass  very  nearly 
out  of  the  jungle  people's  country  before  the  men 
whom  he  had  robbed  were  in  a  position  to  assume 
the  offensive. 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  281 

The  Betok  River  falls  into  the  Upper  Jelai,  a  stream 
which  is  also  given  over  entirely  to  the  Sakai,  and  it 
is  not  until  the  latter  river  meets  the  Telom  and  the 
Serau,  and  with  their  combined  waters  form  the 
lower  Jelai,  that  the  banks  begin  to  be  studded  with 
scattered  Malayan  habitations. 

Kulop  of  the  Harelip,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of 
the  geography  of  the  country  through  which  he  was 
travelling,  but  running  water,  if  followed  down 
sufficiently  far,  presupposed  the  discovery,  sooner  or 
later,  of  villages  peopled  by  folk  of  his  own  race. 
Therefore,  he  pressed  forward  eagerly,  bullying  and 
goading  his  Sakai  into  something  resembling  energy. 
He  had  now  more  than  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
rubber  on  his  rafts,  and  he  was  growing  anxious  for 
its  safety.  To  the  danger  in  which  he  himself  went, 
he  was  perfectly  callous  and  indifferent. 

It  was  at  Kuala  Merabau — a  spot  where  a  tiny 
stream  falls  into  the  upper  Jelai  on  its  right  bank — 
that  a  small  party  of  Sakai  lay  in  hiding,  peering 
through  the  vegetation  at  the  gliding  waters  down 
which  Ktilop  and  his  plunder  must  presently  come. 
Each  man  carried  at  his  side  a  quiver,  fashioned  from 
a  single  length  of  bamboo,  ornamented  with  the 
dots,  crosses,  zigzags,  and  triangles  which  the  Sakai 
delight  to  brand  upon  their  vessels.  Each  quiver 
was  filled  with  darts  about  the  thickness  of  a  steel 
knitting  needle,  and  some  fifteen  inches  in  length, 
with  an  elliptical  piece  of  light  wood  at  one  end  to 
steady  it  in  its  flight,  and  at  the  other  a  very  sharp 
tip,  coated  with  the  black  venom  of  the  ipoh  sap. 


232  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

In  their  hands  each  man  of  the  ambushing  party 
held  a  reed  blowpipe,  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  and 
rudely  but  curiously  carved. 

Presently  the  foremost  Sakai  stood  erect,  his 
elbows  spread-eagled  and  level  with  his  ears,  his  feet 
heel  to  heel,  his  body  leaning  slightly  forward  from 
the  hips.  His  hands  were  locked  together  at  the 
mouthpiece  of  his  blowpipe,  the  long  reed  being 
held  firmly  by  the  thumbs  and  forefingers,  which 
were  coiled  above  it,  while  the  weight  rested  upon 
the  lower  interlaced  fingers  of  both  hands.  His 
mouth,  nestling  closely  against  the  wooden  mouth- 
piece, was  puckered  and  his  cheeks  drawn  in,  like 
those  of  a  man  who  seeks  to  spit  out  a  shred  of  tobacco 
which  the  loose  end  of  a  cigarette  has  left  between 
his  lips.  His  keen,  wild  eyes  glared  unflinchingly 
along  the  length  of  his  blowpipe,  little  hard  wrinkles 
forming  at  their  corners. 

"Pi^ .'"  said  the  blowpipe. 

The  wad  of  dry  pith,  which  had  been  used  to  ex- 
clude the  air  around  the  head  of  the  dart,  fell  into 
the  water  a  dozen  yards  away,  and  the  dart  itself 
flew  forward  with  incredible  speed,  straight  to  the 
mark  at  which  it  was  aimed. 

A  slight  shock  on  his  right  side,  just  above  the  lii]> 
apprised  Kiilop  that  something  had  struck  him,  and 
looking  down  he  saw  the  dart  still  quivering  in  his 
waist.  But,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Kulop  carried 
under  his  coat  a  gaudy  bag,  ornamented  with  beads, 
and  stuffed  with  the  ingredients  of  the  betel  quid, 
and  in  this  the  dart  had  embedded  itself.     The  merest 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  233 

fraction  of  a  second  was  all  that  Kulop  needed  to  see 
this,  and  to  take  in  the  whole  situation.  With  him 
action  and  preception  kept  even  step.  Before  the 
dart  had  ceased  to  shudder,  before  the  Sakai  on  the 
bank  had  had  time  to  send  another  in  its  wake,  before 
the  men  poling  his  raft  had  fully  grasped  what  was 
happening,  Kulop  had  seized  the  nearest  of  them  by 
his  frowzy  halo  of  elflocks,  and  had  drawn  him 
screaming  across  his  knees.  The  terrified  creature 
writhed  and  bellowed,  flinging  his  body  about  wildly, 
and  his  friends  upon  the  bank  feared  to  blow  their 
darts  lest  they  should  inadvertently  wound  their  kins- 
man while  trying  to  kill  the  Malay. 

"Have  a  care,  you  swine  of  the  forest!"  roared 
Kulop,  cuffing  the  yelling  Sakai  unsparingly  in  order 
to  keep  his  limbs  in  constant  motion.  "Have  a  care, 
\'Ou  sons  of  fallen  women !  If  you  spew  forth  one  more 
of  your  darts,  this  man,  your  little  brother,  dies 
forthwith  by  my  kris." 

The  Sakai  on  the  bank  had  no  reason  to  doubt  the 
sincerity  of  Kulop's  intentions,  and  as  these  poor 
creatures  love  their  relatives,  both  near  and  distant, 
far  more  than  is  usual  in  more  civilized  communities 
where  those  connected  by  ties  of  blood  do  not  neces- 
sarily live  together  in  constant  close  association,  they 
dared  not  blow  another  dart.  Moreover,  one  poi- 
soned arrow  had  apparently  gone  home,  and  a  single 
drop  of  the  powerful  solution  of  the  ipoh  which  they 
were  using  sufficed,  as  they  well  knew,  to  cause  death 
accompanied  by  excrucioting  agony.  The  attacking 
party  therefore  drew  off,  and  Kiilop  of  the  Harelip 


234  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

proceeded  upon  his  way  rejoicing;  but  he  kept  hi.s 
Sakai  across  his  knee,  none  the  less,  and  occasionally 
administered  to  him  a  sounding  cuff  for  the  stimula- 
tion of  his  fellows. 

Thus  Kulop  won  his  way  in  safety  out  of  the  Sakai 
country,  and  that  night  he  stretched  himself  to  sleep 
upon  a  mat  spread  on  the  veranda  of  a  Malayan 
house,  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  excellent  health,  the 
knowledge  that  he  was  at  last  a  rich  man,  and  a 
delightful  consciousness  of  having  performed  great 
and  worthy  deeds. 

For  a  month  or  two  he  lived  in  the  valley  of  the 
-Jelai,  at  Bukit  Betong,  the  village  which  was  the 
headquarters  of  the  Dato'  Maharaja  Perba,  the 
great  upcountry  chief,  who  at  that  time  ruled  most 
of  the  interior  of  Pahang.  He  sold  his  rubber  to 
this  potentate,  and  as  he  let  it  go  for  something  less 
than  the  market  price,  the  sorrows  of  the  Sakai  were 
the  cause  of  considerable  amusement  to  the  local 
authorities  from  whom  they  sought  redress. 

But  Kulop  of  the  Harelip  had  left  his  heart  behind 
him  in  Perak,  for  the  natives  of  that  State,  men  say, 
can  never  long  be  happy  when  beyond  the  limits  of 
their  own  country,  and  must  always  sooner  or  later 
make  their  way  back  to  drink  again  of  the  waters  of 
their  silver  river.  Perhaps,  too,  Kulop  had  some 
particular  lady  in  his  mind  when  he  set  out  upon  hi.*^ 
quest  for  wealth,  for  all  the  world  over,  if  you  trace 
i7iatters  to  their  source,  the  best  work  and  the  most 
blackguardly  deeds  of  men  are  usually  to  be  ascribed 
lo  the  women  who  sit  at  the  back  of  their  hearts. 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  235 

and  supply  the  driving-power  which  impels  them  to 
good  or  to  evil. 

One  day  Kulop  of  the  Harelip  presented  himself 
before  the  Dato'  Maharaja  Perba,  as  the  latter  lay 
smoking  his  opium  pipe  upon  the  soft  mats  in  his 
liouse,  and  informed  him  that,  as  he  had  come  to 
seek  permission  to  leave  Pahang,  he  had  brought  a 
present — "a  thmg  trifling  and  unworthy  of  his 
notice" — which  he  begged  the  chief  to  honour  him 
by  accepting. 

"When  do  you  go  down  river?"  inquired  the  Dato' 
for  the  Jelai  Valley  is  in  the  far  interior  of  Pahang, 
and  if  a  man  would  leave  the  country  by  any  of  the 
ordinary  routes,  he  must  begin  his  journey  by  trav- 
elling downstream  at  least  as  far  as  Kuala  Lipis. 

'"Your  servant  goes  upstream,'"  replied  Kulop 
Sumbing. 

The  Dato'  gave  vent  to  an  expression  of  incredu- 
lous surprise. 

"Your  servant  returns  the  way  he  came,'*  said 
Kulop. 

The  Dato'  burfet  out  into  a  torrent  of  excited 
exjjostulation.  It  was  death,  certain  death,  he  said, 
for  Kalop  to  attempt  once  more  to  traverse  the  Sakai 
country.  I'he  other  routes  were  open,  and  no  man 
would  dream  of  staying  him  if  he  sought  to  reliwn 
to  his  own  coimtry  by  land  or  sea.  The  course  he 
meditated  was  folly,  was  madness,  was  an  impossi- 
bility. But  to  all  these  words  Kulop  of  the  HareliiJ 
turned  a  deaf  ear.  He  knew  Malayan  chieftains  and 
all  their  ways  and  works  pretty  intimately,  and  he 


236  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

had  already  paid  too  heavy  a  toll  to  the  Dato'  to 
have  any  desire  to  see  his  honest  earnings  further 
diminished  by  other  similar  exactions.  If  he  took 
his  way  homeward  through  country  inhabited  by 
Malays,  he  knew  that  at  every  turn  he  would  have 
to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  barons  and  chiefs  and 
headmen  whose  territory  he  would  cross  on  his 
journey,  and  the  progressive  dwindling  of  his  hoard 
which  this  would  entail  was  a  certainty  that  he  would 
not  face.  On  the  other  hand,  he  held  the  Sakai  in 
utter  contempt,  and  as  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings 
he  was  incapable  of  feeling  fear,  the  Dato's  estimate 
of  the  risks  he  was  running  did  not  move  him.  A 
sinister  grin  distorted  his  face  as  he  listened  to  the 
chief's  words,  for  he  regarded  them  as  a  cunning 
attempt  to  induce  him  to  penetrate  more  deeply  into 
Pahang  in  order  that  he  might  thereafter  be  phui- 
dered  with  greater  ease.  Accordingly,  he  declined 
to  accept  the  advice  offered  to  him,  and  a  coupic 
of  days  later  he  set  out  upon  his  return  journey 
through  the  forests. 

He  knew  that  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to 
persuade  any  one  to  accompany  him,  so  he  went,  as 
he  had  come,  alone.  The  dollars  into  which  he 
had  converted  his  loot  were  hard  and  heavy  upon  his 
back,  and  he  was  further  loaded  with  a  supply  of  rice, 
dried  fish,  and  salt;  but  his  weapons  were  as  bright 
as  ever,  and  to  him  they  still  seemed  the  only  com- 
rades which  a  reasonable  man  need  hold  to  be  essen- 
tial. He  travelled  on  foot,  for  single-handed  he 
could  not  pole  a  raft  against  the  current,  and  he  fol- 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  237 

lowed  such  paths  as  he  could  find,  guiding  himself 
mainly  by  the  direction  from  which  the  rivers  flowed. 
His  plan  was  to  Tascend  the  valley  through  which 
the  Betok  ran,  until  the  mountains  "were  reached,  and 
after  crossing  them  to  strike  some  stream  on  the 
Perak  side  of  the  range,  down  which  it  would  be 
possible  to  navigate  a  bamboo  raft. 

He  soon  found  himself  back  in  the  Sakai  country, 
and  passed  several  of  the  jungle-folk's  camps,  which 
were  all  abandoned  at  his  approach;  but  though  he 
halted  at  one  or  two  of  them  in  order  to  replenish 
his  scanty  stock  of  provisions,  he  considered  it  more 
prudent  to  pass  the  night  in  the  jungle. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  that  Kulop 
became  aware  of  an  unpleasant  sensation.  The 
moon  was  at  the  full,  and  he  could  see  for  many  yards 
around  him  in  the  forest,  but  though  no  living  thing 
was  visible,  he  became  painfully  conscious  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  being  watched.  Occasionally  he 
thought  that  he  caught  the  glint  of  eyes  peeping  at 
him  from  the  underwood,  and  every  now  and  again 
a  dry  twig  snapped  crisply,  first  on  one  side  of  him, 
then  on  th*e  other,  in  front  of  him,  behind  him.  He 
started  to  his  feet  and  sounded  the  sorak — the  war- 
cry — that  pealed  in  widening  echoes  through  the 
forest.  A  rustle  in  half  a  dozen  different  directions 
at  once  showed  him  that  the  watchers  had  been 
numerous,  and  that  they  were  now  taking  refuge  in 
flight. 

Kulop  of  the  HaDelip  sat  down  again  beside  his 
fire,  and  a  new  and  strange  sensation  began  to  lay 


238  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

cold  fingers  about  his  heart.  It  was  accompanied 
by  an  uneasy  feeling  in  the  small  of  his  back,  as 
though  a  spearthrust  in  that  particular  part  of  his 
person  was  momentarily  to  be  expected,  and  a  clammy 
dampness  broke  out  upon  his  forehead,  while  the 
skin  behind  his  ears  felt  unwontedly  cold.  Danger 
that  he  could  see  and  face  had  never  had  any  power 
to  awe  him,  but  his  isolation  and  the  invisibility  of 
his  enemies  combined  to  produce  in  him  some  curious 
phenomena.  Perhaps  even  Kulop  of  the  Harelip 
needed  no  man  to  tell  him  that  he  was  experiencing 
fear. 

He  built  up  his  fire,  and  sat  near  the  blaze,  trying 
to  still  the  involuntary  chattering  of  his  teeth.  If 
he  could  get  at  grips  with  his  foes,  fear,  he  knew, 
would  leave  him ;  but  this  eerie,  uncanny  sensation  of 
being  watched  and  hounded  by  crafty  enemies  whom 
he  could  not  see  was  sawing  his  nerves  to  rags.  From 
time  to  time  he  glanced  uneasily  over  his  shoulder, 
and  at  last  wedged  his  body  in  between  the  barrier 
roots  of  a  big  tree,  so  that  he  might  be  secure  from 
as'jault  from  behind.  As  he  sat  thus,  leaning  slightly 
backward,  he  chanced  to  glance  up,  and  m  a  treetop, 
some  fifty  yards  away,  he  saw  the  crouching  form  of 
a  Sakai  outlined  blackly  against  the  moonlit  sky, 
amidst  a  network  of  boughs  and  branches. 

In  an  instant  he  was  on  his  feet,  and  again  the 
mrak  rang  out,  as  he  flung  himself  at  the  underwood, 
striving  to  tear  his  way  through  it  to  the  foot  of  the 
tree  in  which  his  enemy  had  been  perched.  But  the 
jungle  was  thick  and  the  shadows  were  heavy;  he 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  239 

quickly  lost  his  bearings,  and  was  presently  glad  to 
stumble  back  to  his  fire  again,  torn  with  brambles 
and  sweating  profusely. 

All  through  that  night  Killop  of  the  Harelip  strove 
to  drive  away  sleep  from  his  heavy  eyes.  He  had 
been  tramping  all  day,  and  his  whole  being  was 
clamouring  for  rest.  The  hours  were  incredibly 
long,  and  he  feared  that  the  dawn  would  never  come. 
During  every  minute  he  was  engaged  in  an  active 
and  conscious  battle  with  physical  exhaustion.  At 
one  moment  he  would  tell  himself  that  he  was  wide 
awake,  and  a  second  later  a  rustle  in  the  underwood 
startled  him  into  a  knowledge  that  he  had  slept. 
His  waking  nightmare  merged  itself  inextricably 
into  the  nightmare  of  dreams.  Over  and  over  again, 
in  an  access  of  sudden  panic,  he  leaped  to  his  feet, 
and  yelled  the  war-cry,  though  his  dazed  brain 
hardly  knew  whether  he  was  defying  the  Sakai  be- 
setting him  or  the  spectres  which  thronged  his  sleep- 
drugged  fancy;  but  each  time  the  patter  of  feet  and 
the  snapping  of  twigs  told  him  that  those  who  watched 
him  were  stampeding.  While  he  remained  awake 
and  on  guard  the  Sakai  feared  him  too  much  to 
attack  him.  His  previous  escape  from  the  dart 
which  they  had  seen  pierce  his  side  had  originated 
in  their  minds  the  idea  that  he  was  invulnerable,  and 
j)roof  against  the  ipoh  poison,  so  they  no  longer  tried 
lo  kill  him  with  their  blowpipes.  That  they  dared 
not  fall  upon  him  unless  he  slept  very  soon  became 
evident  to  Kulop  himself.  Sleep  was  the  ally  of  the 
Sakai    and    his    most    dangerous    enemy;    but    fear 


^40  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

gripped  him  anew  as  he  speculated  as  to  what  would 
happen  when  he  at  last  was  forced  to  yield  to  the 
weight  of  weariness  that  even  now  was  oppressing 
him  so  sorely. 

.  Presently  a  change  began  to  come  over  the  forest 
in  which  he  sat.  A  whisper  of  sound  from  the  trees 
around  told  him  that  the  birds  were  beginning  to  stir. 
Objects,  which  hitherto  had  been  black  and  shapeless 
masses  cast  into  prominence  by  the  clear  moonlight, 
gradually  assumed  more  definite  shape.  Later  the 
colour  of  the  trunks  and  leaves  and  creepers — 
still  sombre  and  dull,  but  none  the  less  colour — 
became  perceptible,  and  Kulop  of  the  Harelip 
rejoiced  exceedingly  because  the  dawn  had  come 
and  the  horrors  of  the  night  were  passing  away. 

Quickly  he  boiled  his  rice  and  devoured  a  meal; 
then,  gathering  up  his  belongings,  he  resumed  his 
journey.  All  that  day,  though  physical  weariness 
pressed  heavily  upon  him,  he  trudged  onward  stub- 
bornly; but  the  news  had  spread  among  the  Sakai 
that  their  enemy  was  once  more  among  them,  and 
the  number  of  the  jungle-folk  who  dogged  his  foot- 
steps steadily  increased.  Kulop  could  hear  their 
shrill  whoops  as  they  called  to  one  another  through 
the  forest,  giving  warning  of  his  approach,  or  signal- 
ling the  path  that  he  was  taking.  Once  or  twice  he 
fancied  that  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  lithe  brown 
body,  of  a  pair  of  glinting  eyes,  or  of  a  straggling 
mop  of  hair;  and  forthwith  he  would  charge,  shouting 
furiously.  But  the  figure — if  indeed  it  had  any 
existence    sav(^    in    his    overwrought    imagination — 


THE  LONE-HAND  RAID  241 

always  vanished  as  suddenly  and  as  noiselessly  as  a 
shadow,  long  before  he  could  come  within  striking 
distance.  This  experience,  Kulop  found,  was  far 
more  trying  to  the  nerves  than  any  stand-up  fight 
could  have  been.  Violent  action  and  the  excitement 
of  a  bloody  hand-to-hand  encounter  would  have 
su}:)plied  him  with  an  anodyne;  but  the  invisibility 
of  his  enemy,  and  the  intangible  character  of  their 
pursuit  of  him  added  the  terrors  of  a  fever  dream  to 
the  very  imminent  danger  in  which  he  now  knew  him- 
self to  be. 

The  night  which  followed  that  day  was  a  period 
of  acute  agony  to  the  weary  man,  who  dared  not 
sleep;  and  about  midnight  he  again  resumed  his 
march,  hoping  thereby  to  elude  his  pursuers. 

For  an  hour  he  believed  himself  to  have  suc- 
ceeded in  this.  Then  the  shrill  yells  began  once  more 
to  sound  from  the  forest  all  around  liim,  and  at  the 
first  cry  Kulop's  heart  sank.  Still  he  stumbled  on, 
too  tired  out  to  charge  at  his  phantom  enemy,  too 
hoarse  at  last  even  to  raise  his  voice  in  the  sorak, 
but  doggedly  determined  not  to  give  in.  He  was 
beginning,  however,  visibly  to  fail,  and  as  he  showed 
visible  signs  of  distress,  the  number  and  the  boldness 
of  his  pursuers  increased  proportionately.  Soon 
their  yells  were  resounding  on  every  side,  and  Kulop, 
staggering  forward,  seemed  like  some  lost  soul,  wend- 
ing his  way  to  the  Bottomless  Pit,  with  an  escort  of 
mocking  devils  chanting  their  triumphant  chorus 
around  him. 

Yet  another  unspeakable  day  followed,  and  when 


242  THE  LONE-HAND  RAID 

once  more  the  night  shut  down,  Kulop  of  the  Hare- 
lip sank  exhausted  upon  the  ground.  His  battle  was 
over.  He  could  bear  up  no  longer  against  the  weight 
of  his  weariness  and  the  insistent  craving  for  sleep. 
Almost  as  his  head  touched  the  warm  litter  of  dead 
leaves,  with  which  the  earth  in  all  Malayan  jungles 
is  strewn,  his  heavy  eyelids  closed  and  his  breast 
rose  and  fell  to  the  rhythm  of  his  regular  breathing. 
He  was  halfway  up  the  mountains  now,  and  almost 
within  reach  of  safety,  but  Kulop  of  the  Harelip — 
Kulop,  the  resolute,  the  fearless,  the  strong,  and  the 
enduring — had  reached  the  end  of  his  tether.  He 
had  been  beaten,  not  by  the  Sakai,  but  by  Nature, 
whom  no  man  may  long  defy;  and  to  her  assaults 
he  surrendered  his  will  and  slept. 

Presently  the  underwood  was  parted  by  human 
hands  in  half  a  dozen  different  places,  and  the  Sakai 
crept  stealthily  out  of  the  jungle  into  the  little  patch 
of  open  in  which  their  enemy  lay  at  rest.  He  moved 
uneasily  in  his  sleep — not  on  account  of  any  noise 
made  by  them,  for  they  came  as  silently  as  a  cloud 
shadow  cast  across  a  landscape;  and  at  once  the 
Sakai  halted  with  lifted  feet,  ready  to  plunge  back 
into  cover  should  their  victim  awake.  But  Kulop, 
utterly  exhausted,  was  sleeping  heavily,  wrapped  in 
the  slumber  from  which  he  was  never  again  to  be 
aroused. 

I'he  noiseless  jungle-folk,  armed  with  heavy  clubs 
and  bamboo  spears,  stole  to  within  a  foot  or  two  of 
the  unconscious  Malay.  Then  nearly  a  score  of 
them  raised  their  weapons,  poised  them  aloft,  and 


IIIK  LONE  HAND  RAID  243 

brouglit  them  down  simultaneously  on  the  head  and 
body  of  their  enemy.  Kulop's  limbs  stretched  them- 
selves slowly  and  stifl3y,  his  jaw  fell,  and  blood  flowed 
from  him  in  twenty  places.  No  cry  escaped  him, 
but  the  trembling  Sakai  looked  down  upon  his  dead 
face,  and  knew  that  at  last  he  had  paid  his  debt  to 
them  in  full. 

They  carried  off  none  of  his  gear,  for  they  feared 
to  be  haunted  by  his  ghost,  and  Kulop  at  the  last 
had  nothing  edible  with  him,  such  as  the  jungle- 
folk  find  it  hard  to  leave  untouched*  ]Money  had 
no  meaning  for  the  Sakai,  so  the  silver  dollars,  whicli 
ran  in  a  shining  stream  from  a  rent  made  in  his  linen 
waist  pouch  by  a  chance  spear  thrust,  lay  glinting  in 
tlie  moonlight  by  the  side  of  that  still,  gray  face 
rendert^d  ghiistly  in  death  by  the  pallid  lip  split 
upward  to  the  nostrils.  Thus  the  Sakai  took  their 
leave  of  Kiilop  Sumbing,  as  he  lay  stretched  beside 
the  riches  which  he  had  won  at  so  heavy  a  cost. 

If  you  want  some  ready  money  and  a  good  kris  and 
spear,  both  of  which  have  done  execution  in  their 
<iay,  they  are  all  to  be  had  for  the  gathering  at  a 
spot  in  the  forest  not  very  far  from  the  bound- 
ary between  Pahang  and  Perak.  You  nmst  find 
the  place  for  yourself,  however,  for  the  Sakai 
to  a  man  will  certainly  deny  all  knowledge  of  it. 
Therefore  it  is  probable  that  Killop  of  the  Harelip 
will  rise  up  on  the  Judgment  Day  with  his  ill-gotten 
property  intact. 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

KRETING,  the  old  Sakai  slave-woman,  first 
told  me  this  story,  as  I  sat  by  her  side  at 
Sayong,  on  the  banks  of  the  Perak  River, 
watching  her  deft  management  of  her  long  fishing- 
rod,  and  listening  to  her  guttural  grunts  of  satisfac- 
tion when  she  contrived  to  land  anything  that 
weighed  more  than  a  couple  of  ounces.  The  Malays 
called  her  Kreting — which  means  woolly-head — in 
ilerision,  because  her  hair  was  not  so  sleek  and  smootli 
as  that  of  their  own  womenfolk,  and  it  was  the  only 
name  to  which  she  had  answered  for  well-nigh  half  a 
century.  When  I  knew  her  she  was  repulsively  ugly, 
bent  with  years  and  many  burdens,  lean  of  body  and 
limb,  with  a  loose  skin  that  hung  in  pouches  of  dirty 
wrinkles,  and  a  shock  of  grizzled  hair  which,  as  the 
village  children  were  wont  to  cry  after  her,  resembled 
the  nest  of  a  squirrel.  Even  then,  after  many  years 
of  captivity,  she  spoke  Malay  with  a  strong  Sakai 
accent,  splitting  each  word  up  into  the  individual 
syllables  of  which  it  was  composed;  and  though  the 
story  of  her  life's  tragedy  moved  her  deeply,  her 
telling  of  it  was  far  from  being  fluent  or  eloquent. 
By  dint  of  making  her  repeat  it  to  me  over  and  over 
again,  by  asking  countless  questions,  and  by  fitting 
vvhat  she  said  and  what  she  hinted  on  to  my  own 

£44 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      245 

knowledge  of  her  fellow- tribesmen  and  their  environ- 
ment, I  contrived  to  piece  her  narrative  together 
into  something  like  a  connected  whole.  For  the 
rest,  the  Sakai  people  of  the  upper  Plus,  into  whose 
country  duty  often  took  me  in  those  days,  gave  me 
their  version  of  the  facts,  not  once  but  many  times, 
as  is  the  manner  of  natives.  Therefore,  I  think  it  is 
probable  that  in  what  follows  I  have  not  strayed  far 
from  the  truth. 

The  Sakai  camp  was  pitched  far  up  among  the  little 
straying  spurs  of  hill  which  wander  off  from  the  main 
range  of  the  Malay  Peninsula,  on  its  western  slope, 
and  straggle  out  into  the  valleys.  In  front  of  the 
camp  a  nameless  stream  tumbled  its  hustling  waters 
dowa  a  gorge  to  the  plain  below.  Across  this  slender 
rivulet,  and  on  every  side  as  far  as  the  straitened  eye 
could  carry,  there  rose  forest,  nothing  but  forest, 
crowding  groups  of  giant  trees,  underwood  twenty  feet 
in  height,  and  a  tangled  network  of  vines  and  creepers, 
the  whole  as  impenetrable  as  a  quickset  hedge. 

It  had  been  raining  heavily  earlier  in  the  day,  and 
now  that  evening  was  closing  in,  each  branch  and  leaf 
and  twig  dripped  slow  drops  of  moisture  persistently 
with  a  melancholy  sound  as  of  nature  furtively 
weeping.  The  fires  of  the  camp,  smouldering  sul- 
lenly above  the  damp  fuel,  crackled  and  hissed  their 
discontent,  sending  wreaths  of  thick,  blue  smoke 
curling  upward  into  the  still,  moisture-laden  air 
in  such  dense  volumes  that  the  flames  were  hardly 
visible  even  in  the  gloom  of  the  gathering  night.     In 


246      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

the  heavens,  seen  overhead  through  the  interlacing 
branches,  the  sunHght  still  lingered,  but  the  sky  looked 
wan  and  woebegone. 

There  were  a  score  and  a  half  of  squallid  creatures 
occupying  the  little  camp,  men  and  women  and 
children  of  various  ages,  all  members  of  the  down- 
trodden aboriginal  tribes  of  the  Peninsula,  beings 
melancholy  and  miserable,  thoroughly  in  keeping 
with  the  sodden,  dreary  gloom  around  them,  and 
with  their  comfortless  resting-place.  All  the  chil- 
dren and  some  of  the  younger  women  were  stark 
naked,  and  the  other  occupants  of  the  camp  wore  no 
garment  save  a  narrow  strip  of  bark  cloth  twisted 
in  a  dirty  wisp  about  their  loins.  Up  here  in  the 
foothills  it  was  intensely  cold,  as  temperature  ih 
reckoned  in  the  tropics,  for  the  rain  had  chilled  the 
forest  land  to  a  dank  rawness.  The  Sakai  huts  con 
sisted  of  rude,  lean-to  shelters  of  palm  leaves,  sup- 
ported by  wooden  props,  and  under  them  the  jungle- 
folk  had  huddled  together  while  the  pitiless  sky 
emptied  its  waters  upon  them.  No  real  protection 
from  tlie  weather  had  thereby  been  afforded  to 
them,  however,  and  everything  in  the  camp  was 
drenched  and  clammy. 

The  Sakai  squatted  upon  their  heels,  pressing 
closely  against  one  another,  with  their  toes  in  the 
warm  ashes,  as  they  edged  in  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  smoky  fires.  Every  now  and  again  the  teeth  of 
one  or  another  of  them  would  start  chattering  nois- 
ily, and  several  of  the  children  whimpered  and  whined 
unceasingly.     The  women  were  silent  for  the  most 


FLIGHT  OF   l^HE  JUNGLE-FOLK      247 

part,  but  the  men  kept  up  a  constant  flow  of  dis- 
jointed talk  in  queer,  jerky  monosyllabk^s.  Most  of 
the  Sakai  were  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  a 
leprous-looking  skin  disease,  bred  by  damp  jungles 
and  poor  diet;  and  since  the  wet  had  caused  this  to 
itch  excruciatingly,  they  from  time  to  time  tore 
at  their  hides  with  relentless  fingernails,  like  apes. 
The  men  smoked  a  green,  shredded  tobacco,  soft 
and  fragrant,- rolled  into  rude  cigarettes  with  fresh 
leaves  for  their  outer  casing.  A  few  wild  yams  and 
other  jungle  roots  were  baking  themselves  black  in 
the  embers  of  the  fires,  and  one  or  two  fish,  stuck 
in  the  cleft  of  a  split  stick,  were  roasting  in  the  centre 
of  the  clouds  of  smoke. 

Of  a  sudden  the  stealthy  tones  of  the  men  ceased 
abruptly,  and  the  women  fell  a-quieting  the  com- 
plaining children  with  hurried  maternal  skill.  .^11 
the  folk  in  the  camp  were  straining  their  ears  to  listen. 
Any  one  whose  senses  were  less  acute  than  those  of 
the  wild  Sakai  would  have  heard  no  sound  of  any 
kind  sa\'e  only  the  tinkling  babble  of  the  little 
stream  and  the  melancholy  drip  of  the  wet  branches 
in  the  forest;  but  after  a  moment's  silence  one  of  the 
elder  men  spoke. 

"It  is  a  man,"  he  grunted,  and  a  look  of  relief 
flitted  ov(n-  the  sad,  timorous  faces  of  his  companions. 

Even  the  Sakai,  whose  place  is  v(M-y  near  the  lowest 
i-iuig  in  the  scale  of  humanity,  has  his  own  notions  of 
self-esteem,  and  he  only  dignifi(\s  those  of  his  own 
race  by  the  title  of  "men."  All  other  human  beings 
are  Gobs- — strangers. 


^48      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

Presently  a  shrill  cry,  half  scream,  half  hoot,  such 
as  you  might  imagine  to  be  the  war-whoop  of  a  Red 
Indian,  sounded  from  the  forest  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
downstream.  Even  an  European  could  have  heard 
this,  so  clear  and  penetrating  was  the  sound;  and  he 
would  have  added  that  it  was  the  cry  of  an  argus 
pheasant.  A  jVIalay,  well  though  he  knows  his 
jungles,  would  have  given  to  the  sound  a  similar 
interpretation;  but  the  Sakai  knew  better.  Their 
acute  perceptions  could  detect  without  difficulty  the 
indefinable  difference  between  the  real  cry  of  the  bird 
and  this  ingenious  imitation,  precisely  similar  though 
they  would  have  seemed  to  less  sharpened  senses; 
and  a  moment  later  an  argus  pheasant  sent  back  an 
answering  challenge  from  the  heart  of  the  fire  over 
which  the  old  man  who  had  spoken  sat  crouching. 
The  whoop  was  immediately  replied  to  from  a  hilltop 
a  few  hundred  yards  upstream,  and  the  old  fellow 
made  a  clicking  noise  in  his  throat,  like  the  sound  of  a 
demoralized  clockspring.  It  was  his  way  of  express- 
ing amusement,  for  a  wild  bird  had  answered  his  yell. 
It  had  failed  to  detect  the  deception  which  the  Sakai 
could  recognize  so  easily. 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  two  young  Sakai, 
with  long  blowpipes  over  their  shoulders,  rattan 
knapsacks  on  their  backs,  and  bamboo  spears  in  their 
hands,  passed  into  the  camp  in  single  file.  They 
emerged  from  the  forest  like  shadows  cast  upon  a 
wall,  flitting  swiftly  on  noiseless  feet,  and  squatted 
down  by  the  central  fire  without  a  word.  Each 
rolled  a  cigarette,  lighted  it  from  a  flaming  firebrand, 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      249 

and  fell  to  smoking  it  in  silence.  At  the  end  of  a 
minute  or  so  the  old  man  who  had  answered  their 
signal  jerked  out  a  question  at  them  in  the  disjointed 
jargon  of  the  jungle-people.  The  elder  of  the  two 
newcomers  grunted  a  response,  with  his  eyes  still 
fixed  upon  the  smoky  fire. 

"The  Gobs  are  at  Legap — three  and  three  and 
three — many  Gobs,"  he  said. 

The  Sakai's  knowledge  of  notation  does  not  lend 
itself  to  arithmetical  expression. 

"May  they  be  devoured  by  a  tiger!"  snarled  the 
old  man;  and  at  the  word  all  his  kinsmen  shuddered 
and  glanced  uneasily  over  their  shoulders.  He  had 
uttered  the  worst  curse  known  to  the  jungle-folk, 
who  fears  his  housemate  the  tiger  with  all  his  soul, 
and  very  rarely  takes  his  name  in  vain. 

"They  are  hunting,"  the  youngster  continued; 
"hunting  men,  and  To'  Pangku  Muda  and  To'  Stia 
are  with  them." 

He  split  up  these  Malayan  titles  into  monosylla- 
bles, suiting  the  sounds  to  the  disjointed  articulation 
of  his  people. 

The  listening  Sakai  grunted  in  chorus,  in  token  of 
their  dissatisfaction  at  the  presence  of  these  men 
among  their  enemies. 

To'  Pangku  Muda  was  the  ]\Ialay  chief  of  tlie 
\'illage  of  Lasak,  the  last  of  the  civilized  settlements 
on  the  banks  of  the  Plus  River.  His  title  in  Malay 
means  literally  "the  Junior  Lap,"  and  it  was  con- 
ferred upon  the  headman  of  Lasak  because  he  was 
supposed  to  be  in  charge  of  the  S^kai  tribes,  and  the 


250      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

childlike  jungle-people  were  euphemistically  said  to 
repose  upon  his  knees,  as  an  infant  lies  in  the  lap  of 
its  mother.  Malays  have  a  fondness  for  picturesque 
notions  of  this  kind,  though  their  attitude  toward 
the  Sakai  has  never  been  of  a  kind  to  justify  this  par- 
ticular simile.  Although  To'  Pangku  was  a  Muham- 
madan,  he  had,  like  most  of  the  Malays  of  the  Plus 
Valley,  a  strong  strain  of  Sakai  in  his  blood,  and 
his  inherited  and  acquired  woodcraft  rendered  him 
formidable  in  the  jungles  when  he  led  the  annual 
slave-raiding  party  in  person.  Moreover,  he  was 
greatly  feared  by  Malays  and  Sakai  alike  for  the 
knowledge  of  magic  and  the  occult  powers  which 
were  attributed  to  him. 

To'  Stia,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  Sakai  born  and 
bred,  but  he  was  the  headman  of  one  of  the  tamer 
tribes  who,  in  order  to  save  themselves  and  their 
womenkind  and  children  from  suffering  worse  things 
than  usual,  were  accustomed  to  throw  in  their  lot 
with  the  ]Malays,  and  to  aid  them  in  their  periodical 
slaving  expeditions.  His  title,  given  to  him  by 
the  Malays,  means  "the  Faithful  Grandfather," 
but  his  fidelity  was  to  his  masters  and  to  his  own 
tribal  interests,  not  to  the  race  to  which  he  be- 
longed. 

The  presence  of  these  two  men  with  the  party  now 
upon  the  hunting-path  boded  ill  for  the  cowering 
creatures  in  the  camp,  for  the  Sakai's  only  chance  of 
escape  on  such  occasions  laj'  in  his  sensitive  hearing 
and  in  his  superior  knowledge  of  forest  lore.  But 
To'  Pangku  ^luda  and  To'  Stia,  the  Sakai  knew  full 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE  FOLK      251 

well,  could  fight  the  jungle-people  with  their  own 
weapons. 

The  old  headman,  Ka',  the  Fish,  who  had  taken 
the  lead  in  the  conversation  since  the  arrival  of  the 
scouts,  presently  spoke  again,  still  keeping  his  tired 
old  eyes  fixed  upon  the  smouldering  embers. 

"By  what  sign  did  you  learn  that  To'  Pangku  and 
To'  Stia  were  with  the  Gobs.?"  he  inquired. 

It  was  evident  from  his  ton^s  that  he  was  seeking 
comfort  for  himself  and  his  fellows  in  the  hope  that 
the  young  scouts  might  perhaps  have  been  mistaken. 
Laish,  the  Ant,  the  youth  who  until  now  had  sat  by 
the  fire  in  silence,  answered  him  promptly. 

"We  saw  the  track  of  the  foot  of  To'  Stia  on  the 
little  sandbank  below  Legap,  and  knew  it  by  the 
twisted  toe,"  he  said.  "Also,  as  we  turned  to  leave 
the  place,  wading  upstream,  seeking  you  others,  the 
Familiar  of  To'  Pangku  called  from  out  the  jungle 
thrice.  He  was,  as  it  might  be,  yonder,"  and  he 
indicated  the  direction  by  pointing  with  his  out- 
stretched chin,  as  is  the  manner  of  his  people. 

The  poor  cowering  wretches  around  the  fires 
shuddered  in  unison,  like  a  group  of  treetops  when  a 
{)uft'  of  wind  sets  the  branches  swaying. 

"The  Grandfather  of  many  Stripes,"  snarled  Ka' 
in  an  awed  whisper  under  his  breath. 

He  spoke  of  him  with  deep  respect,  as  of  a  chief  of 
high  repute,  for  every  man  and  woman  present  knew 
of  the  Familiar  Spirit  which  in  the  form  of  a  tiger 
followed  its  master.  To'  Pangku,  whithersoever  he 
went,  and  even  the  little  children  had  learned   to 


35^2      FLIGHT  OP  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

whimper  miserably  when  their  elders  spoke  of  the 
Grandfather  of  many  Stripes. 

An  old  crone,  shivering  in  her  unlovely  nakedness, 
beat  her  long,  pendulous  breasts  with  palsied  hands, 
and  whimpered  plaintively,  "E  k§-non  yeh!  E  kS- 
non  yeh!" — O  my  child!  O  my  child! — which  in 
almost  every  vernacular  of  the  East  is  the  woman's 
cry  of  lamentation;  and  a  young  girl  who  squatted 
near  her  pressed  softly  against  her,  seeking  to  bring 
her  comfort.  The  hard  tears  of  old  age  oozed  with 
difficulty  from  the  eyes  of  the  hag  as  she  rocked  her 
body  restlessly  to  and  fro;  but  the  girl  did  not  weep, 
only  her  gaze  sought  the  face  of  Laish,  the  Ant. 
She  was  a  pretty  girl,  in  spite  of  the  dirt  and  squalor 
that  disfigured  her.  Her  figure  was  slim  and  lithe, 
and  though  her  face  was  too  thin,  it  had  the  freshness 
and  beauty  of  youth,  and  was  crowned  by  an  abim- 
dance  of  glossy  hair  with  a  natural  wave  in  it.  Her 
dark  eyes  were  lustrous  and  almost  too  large,  but 
instead  of  the  gayety  which  should  have  belonged  to 
licr  age,  they  wore  the  hunted,  harassed  expression 
which  was  to  be  marked  in  all  the  inhabitants  of  this 
unhappy  camp. 

Laish  seemed  to  swallow  something  hard  in  his 
throat  before  he  turned  to  Ka'  and  said,  "What  shall 
we  do,  O  Grandfather.'*" 

"Wait  till  dawn,"  the  old  chief  grunted  in  reply. 
"Then  shift  camp  upstream,  always  upstream." 

The  Sakai  pressed  in  more  closely  than  ever  around 
the  fires,  and  the  two  scouts  emptied  the  contents  of 
tlieir  rattan  knapsacks  onto  a  couple  of  large  banana 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK       253 

leaves.  Roots  of  many  kinds  were  there,  some  sour 
jungle  fruits  and  berries,  and  a  miscellaneous  col- 
lection of  nastinesses,  including  the  altogether  too 
human  corpse  of  a  small  monkey  with  its  pink  flesh 
showing  in  places  beneath  its  wet  fur.  This  was 
quicklj'  skinned  and  gutted  and  set  to  roast  in  the 
cleft  of  a  split  stick,  while  Ka'  divided  the  rest  of 
the  trash  among  those  present  with  extreme  nicety 
and  care.  Food  is  so  important  to  the  wild  Sakai, 
who  never  within  human  memory  have  had  sufficient 
to  eat,  that  the  right  of  every  member  of  the  tribe 
to  have  a  proportionate  share  of  his  fellows'  gleanings 
is  recognized  by  all.  No  man  dreams  of  devouring 
his  own  find  until  it  has  been  cast  into  the  common 
stock;  and  in  time  of  stress  and  scarcity,  if  a  single 
cob  of  maize  has  to  be  shared  by  a  dozen  Sakai,  the 
starving  creatures  will  eat  the  grain  row  by  row, 
passing  it  from  one  to  the  other  so  that  each  may 
have  his  portion. 

As  the  night  wore  on  the  Sakai  settled  themselves 
to  sleep  in  the  warm,  gray  ashes  of  the  fires,  waking  at 
intervals  to  tend  the  blaze,  to  talk  disjointedly,  and 
then  to  stretch  themselves  to  rest  once  more.  The 
younger  men  took  it  in  turn  to  watch  in  the  treetops 
on  the  downriver  side  of  the  camp;  but  no  attempt 
to  disturb  them  was  made  by  the  raiders,  and  at 
dawn  they  broke  camp  and  resumed  their  weary 
flight. 

The  Malay  Peninsula  is  one  of  the  most  lavishly 
watered  lands  in  all  the  earth.  In  the  interior  it  is 
not  easy  to  go  in  any  direction  for  a  distance  of  half 


254       FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

a  mile  without  encountering  running  water,  and  up 
among  the  foothills  of  the  main  range,  when  naviga- 
ble rivers  have  been  left  behind,  travelling  through 
the  forest  resolves  itself  into  a  trudge  up  the  valleys 
of  successive  streams,  varied  by  occasional  scrambles 
over  ridges  of  hill  or  spurs  of  mountain  which  divide 
one  river  system  from  another.  Often  the  bed  of  the 
river  itself  is  the  only  available  path,  but  as  wading 
is  a  very  fatiguing  business,  if  undulj'  prolonged,  the 
banks  are  resorted  to  wherever  a  game-track  or  the 
thinning  out  of  the  underwood  renders  progress  along 
them  practicable. 

The  Sakai  fugitives,  however,  did  not  dare  to  set 
foot  upon  the  land  when  once  they  had  quitted  their 
camp,  for  their  solitary  chance  of  throwing  pursuers 
off  their  track  lay  in  leaving  no  trace  behind  them 
of  the  direction  which  they  had  followed.  Accord- 
ingly they  began  by  walking  up  the  bed  of  the  little 
l)rawling  torrent,  swollen  and  muddy  from  the  rains 
of  the  previous  afternoon,  and  when  presently  its 
point  of  junction  with  a  tributary  stream  was 
reached,  they  waded  up  the  latter  because  of  the  two 
it  seemed  to  be  the  less  likely  to  be  selected.  It  was 
miserable  work,  for  the  water  was  icy  cold,  and  the 
rivulet's  course  was  strewn  with  ragged  rocks  and 
hampered  by  fallen  timber;  but  the  Sakai  seemed  to 
melt  through  all  obstructions,  so  swift  and  noiseless 
was  their  going.  They  crejjt  through  incredibly  nar- 
row places;  they  scrambled  over  piles  of  rotten  tim- 
ber without  disturbing  a  twig  or  apparently  leaving 
a  trace;  and   they  kept  strictly  to  the  bed  of  the 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      2oa 

stream,  scrupulously  avoiding  even  the  brushwood 
on  the  banks  and  the  overhanging  branches,  lest  a 
broken  leaf  should  betray  them  to  their  pursuers. 

The  men  carried  their  weapons  and  most  of  their 
few  and  poor  possessions;  and  the  women  toiled 
along,  their  backs  bowed  beneath  the  burden  of 
their  rattan  knapsacks,  in  which  babies  and  carved 
receptacles  made  of  lengths  of  bamboo  jostled  rude 
cooking-pots  of  the  same  material  and  scraps  of  evil- 
looking  food.  Children  of  more  than  two  years 
fended  for  themselves,  following  deftly  in  the  foot- 
ste])s  of  their  elders,  many  of  them  even  helping  to 
carry  the  property  of  the  tribe.  The  oldest  woman 
ill  the  camp,  Sem-pak^ — the  Duri-an  fruit — who,  the 
night  before  had  cried  out  in  terror  when  To'  Pangku 
^Vluda's  Familiar  was  mentioned  by  the  scouts, 
tottered  along  with  shaking  knees  and  palsied  limbs, 
her  lips  mumbling,  her  head  in  constant  motion,  her 
eyes  restless  and  wild.  She  alone  carried  no  burden 
for  it  was  all  that  she  could  do  to  keep  up  with  hei 
fellows  unhampered  by  a  load;  but  Te-U — Running 
Water — her  granddaughter,  bore  upon  her  strong 
young  shoulders  a  pack  heavy  enough  for  them  both, 
and  on  the  march  her  hand  was  ever  ready  to  assist 
the  feeble  steps  of  the  older  woman. 

Te-U,  had  times  been  better,  was  to  have  been 
married  to  Laish,  the  Ant,  a  few  days  earlier;  but 
the  camp  had  been  broken  up  hurriedly  before  the 
simple  wedding  ceremonies  could  be  completed,  for 
the  news  of  the  impending  raid  had  driven  all  thought 
of  anything  less  urgent  than  the  saving  of  life*  and 


256      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

liberty  from  the  minds  of  the  harassed  jungle-folk. 
In  their  own  primitive  way  these  two  wild  creatiu-es 
loved  one  another  with  something  more  than  mere 
animal  passion.  Laish  was  more  fearful  on  the  girl's 
account  than  even  on  his  own,  and  she  looked  to  him 
for  protection  and  felt  certain  that  he  would  fight  in 
her  defence.  For  the  moment,  however,  the  girl's 
heart  was  really  more  occupied  with  her  old  grand- 
mother than  with  her  lover;  and  it  never  occurred  to 
Laish  to  relieve  her  of  any  part  of  her  burden,  nor  did 
she  expect  such  service  from  him. 

The  long  procession  wound  its  way  in  single  file  up 
the  bed  of  the  tributary  stream  until  the  midday  sun 
showed  clearly  over  their  heads  through  the  network 
of  vegetation.  The  Sakai  all  walked  in  precisely 
the  same  manner,  each  foot  being  placed  exactly  in 
front  of  its  fellow,  and  each  individual  treading  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  the  footsteps  of  the  man  in 
front  of  him.  Experience  must,  in  some  remote  and 
forgotten  past,  have  taught  the  forest-dwellers  that 
this  is  the  best  and  quickest  way  of  threading  a  path 
through  dense  jungle,  and  in  the  course  of  time  ex- 
perience has  become  crystalized  into  an  instinct,  so 
that  to-day,  even  when  walking  along  a  broad  high- 
way, the  Sakai  still  adopt  this  peculiar  gait.  You 
may  mark  a  similar  trick  of  successively  placing  the 
feet  one  exactly  in  front  of  the  other  in  many  wild 
animals  whose  lives  have  been  passed  in  heavy  forest. 

At  last  old  Ka',  who  was  leading,  halted,  and  his 
followers  stood  still  in  their  tracks  while  he  grunted 
out  his  orders.     A  steep  hill,  some  five  hundred  feet 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE  FOLK      257 

high,  rose  abruptly  on  their  right.  It  was  covered 
with  jungle  through  which  the  eye  could  not  pene- 
trate in  any  place  for  more  than  a  few  yards;  but  all 
the  Sakai  knew  that  its  crest  was  a  long  spur  or  hogs- 
back,  wliich  if  followed  for  a  matter  of  half  a  mile 
would  enable  them  to  pass  down  into  the  vallej^  of  a 
stream  that  belonged  to  a  wholly  different  river 
system.  By  making  their  way  up  its  bed  they  in 
time  would  win  to  the  mountains  separating  Perak 
from  Pahang;  and  when  the  raiders,  if  they  succeeded 
in  picking  up  the  carefully  veiled  trail,  found  that 
the  fugitives  had  gone  so  far,  it  was  possible  that 
they  might  be  discouraged  from  further  pursuit, 
and  might  turn  their  attentions  to  some  more  acces- 
sible band  of  wandering  Sakai.  The  first  thing, 
however,  was  to  conceal  all  traces  of  the  route  which 
Ka''s  party  had  taken,  and  he  therefore  bade  his 
people  disperse,  breaking  up  into  little  knots  of  two 
or  three,  so  that  no  definite,  well-defined  trail  might 
be  left  as  a  guide  to  the  pursuers.  Later  the  tribe 
would  reassemble  at  a  spot  appointed  by  him.  The 
Sakai  were  well  versed  in  all  such  tricks,  and  very 
few  words  and  no  explanations  were  needed  to  convey 
to  them  an  understanding  of  their  leader's  plan. 
In  the  space  of  a  few  seconds  the  little  band  of  abori- 
gines had  broken  up  and  vanished  into  the  forest  as 
swiftly  and  as  silently  as  a  bank  of  mist  is  dispersed 
by  a  gust  of  morning  wind. 

I^aish  attached  himself  to  Te-IT  and  old  Sem-pak, 
and  the  three,  passing  upstream,  drew  themselves 
v\'ith  infinite  caution  on  to  its  bank  without  bruising 


2,58       FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

a  twig,  and  presently  began  to  scale  the  steep  side  of 
the  hill.  The  earth  was  black,  sodden,  and  slipperj^; 
the  jungle  was  dense,  and  set  with  the  cruel  thorn 
thicT^ets  which  cover  the  slopes  of  the  interior;  the 
gradient  was  like  that  of  a  thatched  roof;  and  the 
climb  made  even  Laish  and  Te-U  pant  with  labour- 
ing breath,  while  old  Sem-pak's  lungs  pumped  pain- 
fully, emitting  a  noise  like  the  roaring  of  a  broken- 
winded  horse.  Up  and  up  they  scrambled,  leaving 
hardly  any  trace  of  their  ascent,  and  with  that  extraor- 
dinary absence  of  avoidable  sound  to  which  only 
the  beasts  of  the  forest,  and  their  fellows,  the  wild 
Sakai,  can  attain.  They  never  halted  to  take  breath, 
but  attacked  the  hill  passionately,  as  though  it  were 
an  enemy  whom  they  were  bent  upon  vanquisliing; 
and  at  last  the  summit  showed  clearly  through  the 
tree  trunks  and  underwood  ahead  of  them. 

Then  Laish,  who  was  leading,  stopped  dead  in  his 
tracks,  gazing  in  front  of  him  with  the  rigidity  of  a 
pointer  at  work;  and  the  next  moment,  uttering  an 
indescribable  cry,  half  yell,  half  scream,  he  was 
tumbling  down  the  slope,  bearing  the  two  women 
with  him,  rolling,  falling,  scrambling,  heedless  of  the 
rending  thorns  and  of  the  rude  blows  of  branches, 
until  they  once  more  found  themselves  in  the  bed  of 
the  stream  from  which  they  had  started  to  make  the 
ascent.  Old  Sem-pak  fell  prone  upon  the  ground, 
her  chest  heaving  as  though  it  imprisoned  some  wild 
thing  that  was  seeking  to  effect  its  escape.  Her 
eyes  and  those  of  her  companions  were  wild  with 
terror. 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      ^259 

At  that  moment  the  long-drawn,  moaning  howl  of 
a  tiger  broke  the  deep  stillness  of  the  forest,  the  sound 
apparently  coming  from  some  spot  almost  vertically 
above  their  heads;  and  the  three  Sakai  listened, 
shuddering,  while  their  teeth  chattered.  Laish  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  great  striped  body  gliding 
with  stealthy  speed  through  the  sparse  jungle  near 
the  summit  of  the  hill,  and  this  had  sufficed  to  send 
him  floundering  down  the  slope  in  precipitate  ffight. 

The  three  Sakai  were  silent,  straining  their  ears  to 
listen  above  the  noise  of  Sem-pak's  agonized  sobs  for 
breath.  A  moment  later  the  howl  broke  out  once 
more,  a  little  farther  to  the  left  this  time,  and  it  was 
quickly  followed  by  a  scream  such  as  only  a  human 
being  could  utter.  Then  again  there  was  silence — 
silence  desolate  and  miserable — during  which  the 
tapping  of  a  woodpecker  could  be  distinctly  heard. 
Then  in  an  instant  the  whole  jungle  seemed  to  have 
been  invaded  by  all  the  devils  in  hell.  Everj^  mem- 
ber of  the  little  band  of  fugitives  was  sounding  the 
danger  yell — a  shrill,  far-carrying  cry  in  which  the 
despair  of  the  miserable  jungle-folk  becomes  vocal, 
calling  to  the  unresponsive  heavens  and  to  unpit}'^- 
ing  man  and  beast  the  tale  of  their  helplessness 
and  of  their  wrongs.  Te-U  and  Laish  joined  in  the 
cry,  but  above  the  tumult  could  be  heard  the  bestial 
growlings  of  the  unseen  tiger  worrying  its  prey. 

Presently  the  Sakai,  still  screaming  as  though  in 
noise  they  sought  comfort  and  protection  from  the 
dangers  besetting  them,  forced  their  way,  singly  or 
in  groups,  out  of  the  underwood,  and  gathered  in  a 


2G0      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

shuddering  group  in  the  bed  of  the  stream.  One  of 
their  number — Pie,  the  Fruit — and  the  two  small 
children  whom  she  had  been  carrying  in  the  knapsack 
slung  upon  her  back,  were  missing,  and  the  man  who 
had  been  her  husband,  staring  at  nothing  with  eyes 
that  protruded  horribly,  was  making  strange  clicking 
noises  in  his  throat,  which  is  the  way  in  which  the 
male  Sakai  gives  expression  to  deep  emotion.  Grad- 
ually, however,  the  band  was  stilled  into  silence,  and 
huddled  together  listening  as  though  spellbound  to 
the  growlings  of  the  tiger.     Then  Ka'  spoke. 

"It  is  the  accursed  one,"  he  said.  *Tt  is  he  that 
followeth  ever  at  the  heels  of  To'  Pangku.  I  beheld 
his  navel,  yellow  and  round  and  swollen.  It  is 
situated  at  the  back  of  his  neck.  Because  I  saw  it, 
he  dared  not  touch  me,  and  passing  by  me,  took  Pie 
and  the  little  ones,  her  children.  Come,  my  brothers, 
let  us  cry  aloud  informing  him  that  we  have  seen  his 
navel,  and  he,  being  overcome  with  shame,  will  seek 
speedily  to  hide  himself." 

Taking  their  time  from  Ka',  all  the  men  raised  a 
shout  in  chorus,  imparting  the  strange,  anatomical 
information  in  question  to  the  growling  monster  on 
the  ridge.  They  made  so  goodly  a  noise  that  for  a 
moment  the  snarling  of  the  beast  was  drowned  by  it; 
but  when  they  paused  to  listen,  it  was  heard  as  dis- 
tinctly as  before. 

"It  is  the  accursed  beast  of  magic,  without  doubt," 
said  Ka'  desi)on(lently.  "Otherwise,  a  great  shame 
would  have  overcome  him,  and  he  would  surely  have 
fled." 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      201 

The  unabashed  tiger  continued  to  snarl  and  growl 
over  its  victims,  high  above  the  Sakai's  heads  on  the 
brow  of  the  hogsback. 

"Come,  let  us  cry  to  him  once  more,"  said  Ku' 
to  his  fellows;  and  again  they  raised  a  shrill  shout 
that  carried  far  and  wide  through  the  forest,  repeat- 
ing that  they  had  beheld  the  beast's  navel,  and  that 
they  knew  it  to  be  situated  at  the  back  of  its  neck. 
^Malays  and  Sakai  alike  believe  the  tiger  to  be  very 
sensitive  upon  this  subject,  and  that  he  will  fly  before 
the  face  of  any  man  who  possesses  the  necessary 
knowledge  of  his  anatomy.  The  native  theory  in- 
clines to  the  opinion  that  the  tiger's  navel  is  located 
in  his  neck,  and  you  may  examine  the  dead  body  of 
one  of  these  animals  minutely  without  finding  any- 
thing to  disprove,  or  indeed  to  prove,  this  notion. 

A  third  time  the  Sakai  raised  their  shout,  and  when 
they  relapsed  into  silence  the  tiger  had  ceased  his 
growlings;  but  another  sound,  faint  and  far,  came 
from  the  direction  of  the  lower  reaches  of  the  stream 
up  which  the  tribe  had  been  toiling  all  the  morning. 
It  was  like  the  roar  of  a  rapid,  but  was  broader, 
coarser,  gruffer,  and  when  they  heard  it  the  Sakai 
were  conscious  of  a  painful  tightening  of  their  heart- 
strings, for  it  recalled  them  suddenly  to  recollection 
of  the  danger  from  human  pursuers  which  for  the 
moment  had  well-nigh  passed  out  of  their  conscious- 
ness. It  was  the  sorcik — the  war-cry  of  the  ]Malays, 
The  raiders  were  hot  upon  their  trail,  and  were 
pressing  up  the  banks  of  the  little  stream  in  pursuit. 
The   yells   which   the   fugitives   had   been   uttering 


262      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

would  serve  to  guide  them,  and  they  would  thus  be 
saved  the  slow  tracking  and  uncertainty  which  de- 
lays the  hunter  and  gives  the  quarry  his  best  chaijce 
of  escape.  In  their  flight  from  the  Familiar  of  To' 
Pangku — for  such  they  firmly  believed  the  tiger  to  be 
— the  Sakai  had  trampled  the  thorn-thickets  and 
the  underwood  recklessly,  and  even  an  European 
would  have  found  little  difficulty  in  reading  the  tale 
which  their  hasty  footmarks  told  so  plainly. 

Ka',  bidding  his  people  follow  him,  turned  his  back 
upon  the  ascent — for  none  dared  again  face  the  fury 
of  the  Familiar — and  plunged  into  the  jungle,  worm- 
ing a  way  through  the  packed  tree  trunks  and  the 
dense  scrub  with  wonderful  deftness  and  speed. 
Ka',  bent  almost  double,  went  at  a  kind  of  jog-trot, 
steady,  swift,  but  careful  and  unhurried;  and  his 
people,  young  and  old,  streamed  along  at  his  heels 
adopting  the  same  nimble  gait.  They  were  covering 
the  ground  now  at  a  far  faster  rate  than  any  MaL:y 
could  hope  to  maintain  through  virgin  forest;  bi:'. 
they  were  leaving  behind  them  a  trail  that  a  chi!  1 
could  follow  without  difficulty,  and  in  their  passag.' 
they  were  partially  clearing  a  path  for  the  use  of  their 
enemies. 

All  day  they  kept  on  steadily,  only  halting  now  and 
again  for  a  brief  breathing  space  when  old  Sem-pak, 
overweighted  by  her  load  of  seventy  years,  could  no 
longer  keep  up  with  her  fellows.  The  adults  were 
from  time  to  time  carrying  some  of  the  smaller 
children  who  had  begun  the  day  on  foot.  At  first 
the  sound  of  the  .wrak  had  been  heard  once  or  twice, 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JIJNGLE-FOLK      2b,{ 

still  indistinct  and  very  distant,  but  after  the  first 
half  hour  it  had  ceased  to  be  audible,  and  nothing 
was  to  be  heard  save  the  tinkle  of  running  water,  the 
occasional  note  of  a  bird,  or  the  faint  stir  of  animal 
life  in  the  forest  around.  The  fugitives  had  thrown 
away  most  of  their  loads  when  the  tiger  stampeded 
them,  and  they  now  were  travelling  burdened  by  little 
save  their  babies  and  their  weapons.  When  life 
itself  is  in  jeopardy,  property  ceases  to  possess  a 
value.     For  the  time  being  it  ceases  to  exist. 

The  same  expression — tense,  fearful,  strained — 
was  to  be  marked  on  the  faces  of  all  the  Sakai,  and 
their  eyes  were  wild,  savage,  hunted,  and  filled  to  the 
brim  with  a  great  fear.  Even  their  movements  were 
eloquent  of  apprehension,  and  the  light  touch  of  their 
feet  upon  the  groimd  betokened  that  their  muscles 
were  braced  for  instant  flight  at  the  first  sign  of  danger. 

At  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  heavens 
opened  and  emptied  themselves  on  to  the  forest  in 
sheets  of  tropical  rain.  At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes 
everj'  branch  and  leaf  overhead  had  become  a  separate 
conduit  and  was  spouting  water  like  a  gargoyle;  but 
still  the  Sakai  continued  their  march,  pressing  for- 
ward with  the  energy  bred  of  despair  into  jungle- 
depths  which  even  to  them  were  untrodden  lands. 
They  had  no  objective  in  sight  now;  their  one  idea 
was  to  get  away— it  mattered  not  whither — away 
from  the  Malays,  from  captivity  and  death. 

As  the  dusk  began  to  gather  the  rain  ceased,  and 
Ka'  cried  to  his  fellows  that  they  must  halt  for  the 
night.     The  moon  was  well  past  the  full,  and  the 


264       FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

darkness  in  the  forest  would  be  too  absolute  for  even 
the  Sakai  to  force  a  way  through  the  thickets  during 
the  earlier  hours  of  the  night.  Also  the  fugitives 
were  almost  worn  out  by  their  prolonged  exertions. 
Not  daring  to  kindle  a  fire,  lest  its  light  should  serve 
as  a  guide  to  their  pursuers,  they  squatted  in  a  drag- 
gled woebegone  group,  seeking  warmth  and  comfort 
by  close  physical  contact  with  one  another.  They 
were  chilled  by  the  rain  and  miserably  cold ;  they  had 
eaten  nothing  since  the  dawn,  and  they  had  but  a  few 
blackened  yams  and  roots  between  them  with  which 
to  assuage  their  hunger;  their  straggly  mops  of  hair 
were  drenched,  and  the  skin  diseases  with  which  they 
were  covered  caused  their  bodies  to  itch  distract ingly. 
But  all  material  discomforts  were  forgotten  in  the 
agony  of  terror  which  wrung  their  hearts. 

Shortly  after  midnight  they  all  awoke,  suddenly 
and  simultaneously.  They  had  been  sleeping  in 
sitting  attitudes,  with  their  knees  drawn  up  to  their 
chins,  and  their  heads  nodding  above  them.  They 
spoke  no  word,  but  they  listened  breathlessly.  The 
yowling  moan  of  a  tiger  was  sounding  about  half  a 
mile  away  to  the  south.  The  brute  drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  moaning  and  howling  from  time  to  time, 
and  prolonging  each  complaining  note  with  a  wanton 
delight  in  its  own  unmusical  song.  It  was  the  call  of 
a  full-fed  tiger  which  cared  not  how  rudely  he  dis- 
turbed the  forest  silence  and  warned  the  jimgle  of  his 
I)resence.  The  Sakai,  beset  at  once  by  material  and 
superstitious  fears,  cowered  miserably  and  drew  nearer 
still  to  one  another.     Thus  for  more  than  half  an 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE  FOLK      205 

hour  they  sat  in  utter  silence,  quaking,  while  the 
tiger  approached  slowly  and  deliberately,  till  pres- 
ently it  seemed  to  be  calling  from  the  jungle  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  shivering  wretches.  Now  it  ap- 
peared to  make  a  complete  circle  of  the  camp,  yowl- 
ing savagely,  and  then  fell  to  prowling  about  and 
about  the  little  group  of  terror-stricken  creatures,  as 
though  it  were  herding  them.  And  all  the  time 
they  could  see  nothing  through  the  intense  darkness, 
and  the  complete  loss  of  the  sense  of  sight  served  to 
quicken  and  torture  even  their  rudimentary  imagina- 
tions. For  an  hour  this  lasted,  and  then  the  tiger 
seemed  to  draw  off,  whereupon  the  jungle-folk,  who 
had  been  too  occupied  by  their  terror  of  the  beast 
to  spare  a  thought  to  any  other  danger,  became 
aware  that  human  beings  were  in  their  vicinity.  How 
tliey  knew  this  it  would  be  impossible  to  explain :  the 
instinct  of  the  wild  tribes  is  as  unerring  as  that  of 
many  animals,  and  they  felt,  rather  than  heard  or 
perceived  through  any  of  their  ordinary  senses,  the 
proximity  of  their  pursuers. 

Noiselessly  then  the  Sakai,  men  and  women  alike, 
fell  to  drawing  clear  of  the  underwood  the  long  lines 
of  green  rattan  which  grow  in  such  profusion  in  all 
the  jungles  of  the  interior  of  the  Peninsula.  These 
they  twisted  into  great  coils  the  size  of  large  cart- 
wheels, and  the  young  men  of  the  tribe,  some  seven 
or  eight  in  number,  with  Laish  among  them,  began 
swarming  into  the  nearest  trees.  Thej'  had  gathered 
and  prepared  the  rattan  in  darkness  almost  absolute, 
guided  only  by  their  sense  of  touch,  and  the  men  now 


2G6      FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

climbed  unseeing  into  the  impenetrable  blackness  of 
the  night.  Their  instinct  had  told  the  forest  people 
not  only  that  their  enemies  were  at  hand,  but  also 
that  the  camp  had  been  surrounded  by  them.  They 
felt  pretty  certain  that  the  Malays  and  the  tamer 
Sakai  who  were  with  them  would  not  attack  until 
just  before  the  dawn;  therefore  it  was  their  object 
to  effect  their  escape,  if  they  could  do  so,  before  day- 
light returned  to  the  earth. 

The  wild  Sakai,  who  have  never  lost  the  arboureal 
habits  of  primitive  man,  can  walk  up  the  bare  trunk 
of  a  tree  with  as  much  ease  as  you  ascend  the  door- 
steps of  your  house,  and  when  once  fairly  among  the 
branches  they  are  thoroughly  at  home.  The  young 
men,  accordingly,  had  no  difficulty  in  climbing  into 
thr  treetops,  whence,  swinging  themselves  liglitly 
from  bough  to  bough,  they  began  to  bridge  the  more 
difficult  places  with  lines  of  rattan,  making  them  fast 
at  each  end.  In  this  manner  before  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  had  elapsed  they  had  constructed  a  path 
of  slack-ropes  some  eighty  yards  in  length,  and  had 
passed  over  the  heads  of  the  Malays  who  lay  en- 
camped all  around.  They  then  made  their  way  back 
to  their  fellows  and  gave  the  word  for  the  start. 

Old  Ka'  leading,  the  long  string  of  jungle-folk 
climbed  slowly  into  the  treetop.s,  all  ti'eading  lightly 
without  making  a  sound,  the  anxious  mothers  striving 
to  still  the  babies  which  they  bore  strung  about  their 
necks.  Deftly  they  picked  their  way  through  the 
pitchy  darkness,  feeling  for  their  foothold  upon 
bonding  })ough  and  branch,  and  treading  with  ex 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE  FOLK      267 

traordinary  precision  upon  the  slender  lines  of  rattan, 
and  for  some  thirty  or  forty  yards  all  went  well  with 
them.  Then  one  of  the  babies  whimpered,  and  at 
the  sound  the  jungle  in  front  and  below  them  broke 
into  a  tumult  of  familiar  yells,  which  told  them  that 
those  of  the  slave-raiders  who  belonged  to  their  own 
race  had  discovered  their  attempt  to  escape,  and  were 
doing  their  best  to  head  the  fugitives  off  and  to  warn 
the  sleepy  Malays. 

Presently  old  Ka'  saw  the  mop  heads  of  half  a 
dozen  tame  Sakai  spring  into  prominence  against 
the  dim  sky.  His  enemies  had  swarmed  up  into  a 
treetop  not  twenty  feet  away  from  him,  and  were  in 
possession  of  the  other  end  of  the  rattan  line  along 
which  he  was  tightroping.  A  voice,  which  he  recog- 
nized lis  that  of  To'  Stia  of  the  twisted  toe,  cried 
Imrriedly  in  the  Sakai  dialect  ''Oki-odz" — -give  me 
a  knife! — and  some  one  unseen  in  the  darkness, 
grunted  "Kod" — Take  it. 

At  this  Ka',  screaming  a  warning  to  his  fellows, 
turned  sharply  about  in  midair,  and  headed  back 
for  the  tree  from  which  he  had  set  out.  Involuntarily 
he  looked  down  into  the  al^yss  of  impenetrable  dark- 
ness beneath  his  feet,  into  the  fathomless  obscurity 
on  either  hand,  but  even  his  eyes,  gifted  with  the 
marvellous  sight  of  the  jungle-folk,  could  see  nothing. 
A  man  and  two  women,  the  latter  bearing  little 
children  against  their  bosoms,  had  turned  to  fly 
when  Ka'  uttered  his  warning  ci\v;  but  they  were 
feeling  their  way  along  the  rattan  line  uuaid(Hl  by  any 
sense  save  that  of  touch,  and  even  in  their  panic  their 


268       FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

movements  were  slow  and  cautious.  All  this  hap- 
pened in  the  space  of  a  few  seconds,  and  then  the 
rattan  jerked  sickeningly  under  the  blow  of  a  heaA  y 
woodknife.  xVnother  blow,  and  the  bra^vny  creeper 
groaned  like  a  sentient  thing  in  pain;  a  third,  and  it 
l)arted  with  an  awful  suddenness,  and  Ka'  and  the 
two  women  were  precipitated  from  a  height  of  nearly 
eighty  feet  into  the  invisible  forest  below.  The  man 
immediately  in  front  of  them  had  just  sufficient  time 
to  save  himself  by  clutching  the  branches  of  the  tree 
to  which  the  near  end  of  the  rattan  was  made  fast. 

Old  Ka'  gave  vent  to  an  appalling  yell,  into  which 
was  compressed  all  the  passionate  despair  of  his  long 
lifetime  and  of  his  downtrodden  and  unhappy  race. 
Each  of  the  women,  as  she  felt  her  foothold  give  way 
beneath  her,  screamed  shrilly — sudden,  abrupt  cries 
which  ceased  with  a  jerk,  as  of  the  breath  caught 
sharply.  For  the  space  of  a  second  there  was  silence, 
and  then  the  crashing  sound  of  heavy  bodies  falling 
headlong  through  leaves  and  branches,  and  three 
thudding  concussions — distinct,  but  almost  simul- 
taneous— were  succeeded  by  a  few  low  groans  far 
below  in  the  darkness.  The  tame  Sakai  yelled  their 
triumph,  passing  the  news  of  their  success  on  to  the 
^Malays,  who  answered  with  the  sorak,  and  thereafter 
there^was  much  laughter.  Ka"s  people,  sick  with  the 
horror  of  what  they  had  heard  and  trembling  with 
fear,  made  their  way  back  to  the  s])ot  where  they  had 
sat  encamped  all  night,  and  huddling  up  against 
one  another  in  quaking  misery,  waited  in  dumb 
despair  for  the  dawn  and  for  death. 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      200 

As  soon  as  the  slow  daylight  began  to  make  itself 
felt  in  the  obscurity  of  the  forest,  investing  the 
watchers,  as  it  seemed,  with  a  new  and  wonderful 
gift  of  sight,  the  raiders  began  to  close  in  around  their 
quarry.  One  or  two  of  the  younger  Malays,  who 
carried  muskets,  fired  a  few  shots  into  the  thick  of 
their  victims,  with  the  object  of  frightening  the  last 
atom  of  fight  out  of  them,  and  old  Sem-pak  rolled 
over  on  her  back,  with  her  knees  drawn  up  against 
her  breast,  jerking  spasmodically.  With  a  cry  of 
pain  and  despair,  Te-L^  threw  herself  prone  across  the 
old  woman's  body,  calling  to  her  frantically  by  name, 
and  vainly  seeking  to  pet  and  coax  her  back  into  life 
by  tender  words  and  caresses.  Then  the  raiders 
rushed  the  camp,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  all  was 
noise  and  confusion.  The  Sakai  broke  like  a  herd  of 
stampeded  deer,  leaving  several  of  their  number 
dead  or  wounded  on  the  ground.  A  good  many  of 
the  more  active  males  made  good  their  escape,  but 
Laish  was  killed  with  his  spear  in  his  hand  as  he 
fought  to  defend  Te-U,  who  saw  him  fling  away  his 
life  in  a  vain  effort  to  rescue  her,  and  felt  the  cup  of 
her  misery  to  be  filled  to  overflowing. 

In  all,  the  raiders  captured  Te-U  and  four  other 
young  women,  half  a  dozen  children,  and  two  young 
men.  There  were  also  several  older  women  who 
were  not  regarded  as  worth  taking.  It  was,  as  sucli 
things  were  reckoned,  a  highly  succ(\ssful  expedition, 
and  the  lumting-party  returned  to  Lasak  in  great 
spirits,  for  the  labour  and  risks  of  slave  chasing  was 
not  much  to  their  taste,  and  .vitli  so  goodly  a  crowd  of 


970       FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK 

captives  in  hand  they  would  not  find  it  necessary  to 
undertake  another  raid  for  a  couple  of  years  or  so. 

To'  Pangku  Muda's  oath  of  fealty  to  the  Sultan  of 
Perak  bound  him  in  those  days — and  indeed  until 
the  British  Government  took  in  hand  the  administra- 
tion of  the  country  in  the  middle  seventies  of  the 
nineteenth  century — to  bring  a  large  raft  downriver 
once  a  year,  loaded  with  jungle  produce.  One  of  the 
items  composing  this  annual  tribute  was  a  Sakai 
man  and  woman,  or  failing  them,  two  elephant  tusks 
of  approved  weight.  The  latter  were  not  always  easy 
to  procure,  so  it  was  usually  found  more  convenient 
to  sacrifice  instead  the  lifelong  happiness  of  a  couple 
of  human  beings. 

Te-U  and  a  youth  named  Gaur,  the  Pig,  were 
selected  for  the  first  year's  offering,  and  accordingly 
they  presently  found  themselves  lying  on  the  great 
raft,  bound  hand  and  foot,  floating  slowly  into  a  land 
of  the  existence  of  which  they  had  not  dreamed,  in 
company  with  stores  of  gutta,  rattan,  and  other 
jungle  produce,  and  the  supplies  of  rice  and  other 
foodstuffs  which  had  won  for  the  Plus  Valley  the 
title  of  "the  Rice-pot  of  the  King." 

The  remainder  of  their  days  were  parsed  in  cap- 
tivity anioug  the  people  of  an  alien  race,  who  despised 
them  heartily  and  held  tliem  as  little  better  than  the 
beasts  of  the  field;  but  j)erluips  the  fullest  measure 
f)f  their  sufferings  was  their  inabiHty  to  satisfy  the 
longing  for  the  jungle  and  for  the  free  life  of  the 
forest  which  is  like  a  ceaseless  ache  in  the  heart  of 
the  jungle-folk. 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  JUNGLE-FOLK      271 

Such  was  the  story  that  Kreting,  the  old  Sakai 
slave  woman,  told  me  that  afternoon  long  ago,  as  she 
sat  angling  for  little  fish  on  the  banks  of  the  Perak 
River.  Her  kinsfolk  of  the  Sakai  country  were  still 
able,  in  some  instances,  to  recall  the  incidents  con- 
nected with  her  capture,  and  they  spoke  to  me  of  her 
as  Te-I^ — Running  Water — a  name  which  set  the 
sad-faced  old  hag  weeping  very  pitifully  when,  after 
th^  lapse  of  so  many  years,  she  heard  it  spoken  by 
my  lips  together  with  some  broken  fragments  of  hei: 
mother-tongue. 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

THE  punkah  swings  freely  for  a  space,  then 
gradually  shortens  its  stride;  hovers  for  a 
moment,  oscillating  gentl3%  in  answer  to  the 
feeble  jerking  of  the  cord;  almost  stops  and  then  is 
galvanized  into  a  series  of  violent,  spasmodic  leaps 
and  bounds,  each  one  less  vigorous  than  the  last, 
until  once  more  the  flapping  canvas  fringe  is  almost 
still.  It  is  by  signs  such  as  these  that  you  may 
know  that  IJmat,  the  punkah-puller,  is  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  the  just. 

If  you  look  behind  the  high  screen  which  guards 
the  doorwaj',  you  will  see  him;  and  without  moving, 
if  the  afternoon  is  very  warm  and  still,  you  may  oc- 
casionally hear  his  soft,  regular  breathing,  and  the 
gentle  murmur  with  which  his  nose  is  wont  to  mark 
the  rhytiim  of  his  slumber.  An  old  cotton  handker- 
chief is  bound  about  his  head  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  top  of  his  scalp  is  exposed,  the  short  bristles  of 
hair  upon  it  standing  erect  in  a  circular  enclosure, 
Hke  the  trainers  in  a  garden  of  young  .sirih  vines.  On 
his  back  he  wears  an  old,  old  coat  of  discoloured 
khaki,  once  the  property  of  a  dead  policeman.  The 
Government  buttons  have  been  taken  away  from 
him  by  a  relentless  inspector  of  police,  and  tJmat  has 
supplied  their  place  with  thorns,  cunningly  contrived 

272 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     273 

pieces  of  stick,  and  one  or  two  wooden  studs.  The 
shoulder-straps  flap  loosely,  and  their  use  and  inten- 
tion are  problems  that  present  a  constant  puzzle  to 
timat.  A  cotton  sarong — not  always  of  the  cleanest 
— is  round  his  waist,  and  falling  to  his  knees,  supplies 
the  place  of  all  other  nether  garments.  For  Umat 
is  at  once  comfort-loving  and  economical,  and  Pahang 
by  this  time  had  become  a  free  land  in  which  a  man 
might  go  clad  pretty  well  as  he  liked,  without  some 
ill  thing  befalling  him  therefor.  Less  than  ten 
years  earlier,  a  man  who  went  abroad  without  his 
trousers  ran. a  good  chance  of  never  returning  home 
again,  for  Pahang  Malays  were  apt  to  regard  any  one 
so  clad  as  a  person  who  was  no  lover  of  battle 
Among  Malays — who  are  the  most  phj'-sically  modesfc 
people  in  the  world— it  is  well  known  that  no  man 
can  fight  with  a  whole  heart  and  with  undivided 
attention,  when  at  any  moment  a  mishap  may  expose 
his  nakedness;  and  those  who  by  the  inappropriate- 
ness  of  their  costume  gave  proof  of  their  unprepared- 
ness,  simply  invited  the  warlike  persecutions  of  the 
gilded  youth  of  the  place,  who  were  always  ready  to 
display  prowess  by  mangling  one  from  whom  little 
resistance  was  to  be  expected.  But  in  Kelantan, 
where  Umat  was  born  and  bred,  few  men  possess 
trousers,  and  no  one  who  loves  his  comfort  ever  wears 
such  things  if  he  can  help  it. 

Below  sarong,  goodly  lengths  of  bare  and  hairy  leg 

are  visible,  ending  in  broad  s})lay  feet,  with  soles  that 

seem  shod  with  horn;  for  Umat  could  dance  barefoot 

n  a  thorn  thicket  with  as  much  comfort  as  upon  a 


^74    ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

velvet  carpet.  He  half  sits,  half  lies,  huddled  up  in  a 
wicker-work  armchair,  his  head  canted  stiffly  over 
his  right  shoulder,  his  eyes  tight  shut,  and  his  mouth 
>ide  open.  Two  rows  of  blackened  tusks  are  ex- 
posed to  view,  and  a  fair  expanse  of  gums  and  tongue 
stained  a  dull  scarlet  with  areca  nut.  His  feet  are 
on  the  seat  of  the  chair — one  doubled  snugly  under 
him,  the  other  supporting  the  knee  upon  which  his 
chin  may  find  a  resting-place  as  occasion  requires. 
The  pull  cord  of  the  punkah  is  made  fast  about  his 
right  wrist,  and  his  left  hand  holds  it  limply,  his  arms 
moving  forward  and  backward  mechanically  in  his 
^leep.  It  often  looks  as  though  the  punkah  were 
pulling  tJmat,  not  tJmat  the  punkah,  so  completely 
a  part  of  the  thing  does  he  appear,  and  so  invisible  is 
the  effort  which  he  puts  into  his  work. 

At  his  feet,  humming  contentedly  to  himself,  sits  a 
Very  small  boy,  dressed  chastely  in  a  large  cap  and  a 
soiled  pocket-handkerchief;  and  thus  Umat  dreams 
away  many  hours  of  his  life.  If  his  sleeping  memory 
takes  him  back  to  the  days  when  he  followed  me  upon 
the  warpath,  to  one  of  the  dirty  nights  when  we  went 
fishing  together,  or  to  hours  spent  in  floundering 
through  the  rice-swamps  or  trudging  over  the  grazing 
grounds  and  through  the  rhododendron  scrub  when 
snipe  were  plentiful  and  the  bag  a  big  one,  the  j)un- 
kah  leaps  to  and  fro  vigorously,  taking  an  active 
])art  in  the  scenes  of  which  he  dreams.  But  when 
Umat's  mind  turns  home  again  to  the  extraordinarily 
ill -kept  hut  in  the  corner  of  my  compound,  which  he 
shares  with  his  soft-eyed,  gentle  wife,  S^l^ma,  and 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EA  PEN  MY  RICE     iTir 

their  children,  and  dwells  upon  hearty  meals  and 
(luiet  nights,  then  in  sympathy  the  pimkah  moves 
slowly,  sentimentally,  and  stops. 

''Tdrek!  Pull!"  cries  a  voice  from  the  inner  room, 
and  Umat,  awakening  with  a  start,  bursts  into  voluble 
reproaches,  addressed  to  himself  in  the  guttural 
speech  of  the  Kelantan  people.  Then  he  very 
calmly  relapses  into  slumber. 

If  you  sail  up  the  east  coast  of  the  Malay  Peniu' 
sula,  past  the  long  sandy  beaches,  backed  by  a  fringe 
of  casuarina  trees,  which  are  the  shores  of  Pahang  and 
Trengganu,  you  at  last  reach  the  spot  where  the 
bulk  of  the  waters  of  the  Kelantan  River  used  once 
upon  a  time  to  empty  themselves  into  the  China 
Sea.  The  principal  mouth  is  now  a  mile  or  two 
farther  up  the  coast,  but  the  groves  of  jialm  trees 
show  that  the  people  have  been  less  fickle  than  the 
river,  and  that  the  villages  have  continued  to  thrive 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  highways  of  traffic  have 
deserted  them.  It  is  here  that  Umat  was  born  and 
bred,  one  of  a  family  of  fisher  folk,  successive  genera- 
tions of  whom  have  dwelt  at  Kuala  Kelantan  evei 
since  the  beginning  of  things. 

If  3^ou  look  at  Umat's  round,  splay-featured  facft 
and  observe  it  carefully,  you  may  reatl  tiierein  much 
that  bears  upon  the  history  of  his  people.  The  pre- 
vailing expression  \&  one  of  profound,  calm  patience, 
not  the  look  of  conscious  waiting  and  of  the  pain  of 
hope  long  deferred,  which  is  the  restless  European 
substitute  therefor,  but  tlie  contented  endurance  of 


27()    ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

one  whose  lot  is  unchanging,  whose  desires  are  few, 
and  who  is  satisfied  to  be  as  he  is.  It  is  a  negative 
expression,  without  sadness,  without  pain,  and  yet 
sufficiently  far  removed  from  dullness  or  stupidity. 
It  speaks  of  the  long  years  during  which  Umat's 
forebears  have  laboured  stolidly,  have  been  as  driven 
cattle  before  prince  or  chief,  and  yet  have  accepted 
their  lot  as  they  found  it,  without  resistance  or  com- 
plaint, finding  therein  a  fair  measure  of  happiness, 
since  the  knowledge  of  better  things  has  been  merci- 
fjllj'  withheld  from  them.  A  divine  discontent  may 
be  the  beginning  of  all  improvement,  but  beyond  all 
gainsaying  it  sounds  the  knell  to  placid  happines:? 
and  content. 

Tliis  is  wliat  one  reads  in  Umat's  face  when  it  is 
in  repose,  but  it  is  subject  to  the  changes  wrought  by 
many  emotions.  Suddenly  his  features  break  up 
into  a  thousand  creases,  the  brown  skin  puckering  in 
numberless  divergent  lines,  like  the  surface  of  a 
muddy  puddle  into  which  a  stone  has  been  cast. 
A  noise  like  the  crowing  of  a  cock  combined  with  the 
roaring  of  a  bull  accompanies  this  phenomenon,  and 
you  may  then  know  that  Umat's  sense  of  humour  has 
been  tickled.  It  does  not  take  much  to  amuse  him, 
for,  like  most  Malays,  he  is  very  light-hearted;  and 
all  Umat's  world  laughs  with  and  at  him.  Almost 
every  Kehintan  fishing-boat  that  puts  to  sea  carries 
its  dian-dlan,  or  jester,  with  it,  for  toil  is  lightened  if 
men  be  merry,  and  in  days  gone  by  Umat  was  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  successful  men  of  this  class 
on  the  coast.     A  quaint  phrase,  a  happy  repartee, 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     277 

not  always  expressed  in  the  most  decorous  language, 
the  rude  mimicry  of  some  personal  eccentricity,  a 
play  upon  words,  or  a  story  with  almost  too  much 
point  in  it — such  are  Umat's  stock  in  trade,  and  the 
dexterous  use  of  them  has  caused  him  to  be  well 
beloved  by  his  fellows. 

But,  on  occasion,  he  can  be  serious  enough.  iVs 
mj^  raft  whirls  down  a  rapid,  a  clumsy  punt  sends  it 
reeling  to  what  looks  like  certain  destruction, 
Umat's  ugly  old  nut  of  a  face  sets  hard.  His  teeth 
are  clenched,  his  lips  compressed  tightly.  His  bare 
feet  grapple  the  slippery  bamboos  with  clinging  grip, 
and  his  twenty -foot  punting  pole  describes  a  circle 
iibove  his  head.  Its  point  alights  with  marvellous 
rapidity  and  unerring  aim  upon  the  only  projecting 
ridge  of  rock  within  immediate  reach,  and  all  Umat's 
weight  is  put  into  the  thrust,  while  his  imprisoned 
breath  breaks  loose  in  an  excited  howl.  The  raft 
cants  violently,  wallowing  knee  deep,  but  the  danger 
of  instant  demolition  is  averted,  and  we  tear  through 
the  fifty  yards  of  roaring,  rock-beset  water,  which 
divides  us  from  the  foot  of  the  rapid,  without  further 
mishap.  Then  Umat's  face  relaxes,  his  queer  laugh 
resounds,  and  he  chaffs  the  man  whose  clumsiness 
has  nearly  been  our  undoing  with  unmerciful  dis- 
regard for  his  feelings  or  for  the  more  approved  pro- 
j)rieties. 

His  promptness  to  grasp  the  nature  of  the  emer- 
gency, and  the  quick,  decisive  action  with  which  he 
meets  it  and  averts  catastrophe,  have  little  to  do  with 
Umat  himself.     He  owes  them  to  his  forebears  the 


^78     ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

fisher-folk  who,  for  many  unrecorded  centuries,  have 
been  accustomed  to  risk  their  Hves  on  the  dangerous 
river  bars  and  the  treacherous  waters  of  the  China 
Sea.  If  ready  presence  of  mind  in  the  face  of  peril, 
und  a  quick  appreciation  of  the  surest  means  of 
escape  had  not  become  for  them  an  inherited  in- 
stinct, the  breed  would  long  ere  now  have  become 
T'xtinct. 

Umat,  however,  has  at  his  command  pluck  of 
quite  another  stamp — the  courage  which  is  no  mere 
9ash  in  the  pan,  born  of  excitement  and  an  instinct 
of  self-preservation,  but  is  long  enduring  when  beset 
\>y  a  danger  before  which  a  man  must  sit  down  and 
<vait.  It  is  no  light  thing  to  stare  death  in  the  eyes 
^or  days  and  weeks  on  end,  to  expect  it  in  some  cri  }, 
Holent  form,  and  yet  to  possess  one's  soul  in  patience, 
and  to  keep  a  heart  in  one's  body  that  does  not  sink 
and  quail.  Yet  Umat  has  successfully  withstood 
this  test,  and  though  the  limitations  of  his  imagina- 
tion doubtless  made  the  situation  easier  for  him  than 
it  would  be  for  a  white  man,  cursed  with  the  restless 
brain  of  his  kind,  he  fully  grasped  the  risks  to  which 
he  was  exposing  himself.  All  his  light-heartedness 
vanished,  for  unlike  my  friend  Raja  Haji  Hamid, 
whose  eyes  never  danced  so  happily  as  when  danger 
was  afoot,  Umat  came  of  a  class  to  whom  a  gambles 
with  death  is  a  hated  thing.  For  once  the  look  of 
calm  patience  had  deserted  him,  for  he  was  enduring 
consciously,  and  l^y  a  hundred  tokens  it  was  evident 
that  his  nerves  were  strung  like  a  bow.  In  a  word, 
he  detested    \hv   whole  position;  but    I  hough    noth- 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     270 

ing  bound  him  to  it  except  a  sentimental  con- 
ception of  loyalty,  he  never  attempted  to  bridge 
from  it. 

But  Umat's  face  is  capable  of  yet  another  change. 
When  his  brown  eyes  blaze,  when  his  features  are 
distorted  with  excitement,  and  a  torrent  of  hardly 
articulate  words  burst  headlong  from  his  lips,  you 
may  know  that  Umat  is  angry.  A  tumult  of  wrath- 
ful sound  at  the  back  of  the  bungalow,  where  the 
servants  congregate  in  the  covered  way  which  joins 
the  kitchen  to  the  main  building,  begins  the  uproar, 
and  if  you  fail  to  interfere,  some  Chinese  heads  will 
infallibly  be  broken  in  several  places.  On  inquiry 
it  will  prove  that  the  cook  has  accused  Umat  of 
adulterating  the  milk,  or  that  the  water  coolie,  whose 
business  it  also  is  to  make  the  kerosene  lamps  smell 
and  smoke,  has  charged  him  with  purloining  the 
kerosene.  Xo  words  can  describe  Umat's  fury  and 
indignation,  if  he  be  indeed  guiltless,  which  is 
\'ery  rarely  the  case.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
counts  brought  against  him  be  true,  he  is  a  bad  liar 
and  his  manner  speedily  betrays  him,  while  his  wrath 
fails  to  convince.  Presently  he  will  produce  the 
bottle  of  lamp  oil  from  the  folds  of  his  sdroug,  and 
laughing  sheepishly,  will  claim  that  praise  should  be 
his  portion,  since  it  is  only  half  full.  He  will  hang 
his  head,  assuming  an  attitude  of  exaggerated  humil- 
ity, while  he  listens  to  my  biting  comments  upon  his 
grossly  immoral  conduct,  ejaculating  from  time  to 
time  the  question:  "Where  should  the  lice  feed,  if 
not  upon  the  head?"  and  five  minutes  later  the  com- 


280    ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

pound  will  be  ringing  with  the  songs  he  loves  to 
bellow.     It  is  not  possible  to  abash  Umat. 

I  first  met  him  in  1890  when,  after  a  year  spent  in 
Europe,  I  returned  to  Pahang  for  a  second  tour  of 
service  at  the  ripe  age  of  twenty -four,  and  took  charge 
of  the  districts  which  form  the  interior  of  that 
country.  I  was  very  lonely.  I  had  served  for  a 
long  time  as  political  agent  at  the  Sultan's  court 
before  the  British  Government  assumed  a  more  ac- 
tive part  in  the  administration  of  the  state,  but  at 
that  time  I  had  had  with  me  some  thirty  Malays  who 
had  come  from  the  other  side  of  the  Peninsula  to 
share  my  fortunes  and  to  keep  me  company.  These 
were  now  scattered  to  the  winds,  and  I  had  none  but 
strangers  around  me.  There  were  a  few  mining- 
camps  spattered  about  the  district,  but  of  the  Euro- 
peans who  lived  in  them  I  saw  little,  except  when  I 
visited  them.  The  Pahang  Malays  eyed  us  with 
suspicion,  and  stood  aloof,  for  their  chiefs  did  no  I 
encourage  a  friendly  attitude  toward  a  set  of  intrutlers 
in  whose  presence  they  saw  a  menace  to  their  power 
and  privileges,  while  the  peasantry  had  still  to  learn 
that  we  Were  able  to  deliver  them  from  the  oppression 
to  which  custom  had  almost  reconciled  them.  For  a 
space,  therefore,  I  was  in  a  position  of  quite  extraor- 
dinary isolation,  ami  I  found  the  experience  suffi- 
ciently dreary. 

Pahang  had  had  an  ill  name  on  the  east  coast  of  the 
Peninsula  any  time  during  the  past  three  hundred 
years,    and    until    the    white    men    "protected"   the 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     281 

country  in  1889,  few  strangers  cared  to  set  foot  in  a 
land  where  life  and  property  were  held  on  so  insecure 
a  tenure.  Soon,  however,  the  whisper  spread  through 
the  villages  of  Kclantan  and  Trengganu  that  work 
found  a  high  price  in  Pahang  under  the  Europeans, 
tmd  a  stream  of  large-limbed  Malays,  very  different 
in  appearance  from  the  slender,  cleanly  built  natives 
of  the  country,  began  to  trickle  over  the  borders. 
On  this  stream  Umat  was  borne  to  me,  and  so  long 
as  my  connection  with  Malaya  remained  unsevered 
he  remained  with  me  "inseparable  as  the  nail  and  the 
quick,"  to  use  his  own  expression, 

Umat,  in  the  beginning,  was  just  one  of  my  boat- 
men, the  folk  in  whose  company  I  explored  all  the 
rivers  in  the  interior  of  Pahang.  No  map  of  the 
country  existed  in  those  days,  and  I  had  a  notion — 
the  soundness  of  which  was  subsequently  demon- 
strated— that  the  time  would  come  when  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  local  geography  would  be  of  great 
importance  and  military  value,  and  that  at  such  a 
season  native  guides  would  be  unprocurable.  I 
si)ent  about  eight  months,  therefore,  in  punting  up 
and  i)addling  down  the  streams,  which  in  those  days 
formed  the  principal  highways  in  the  interior,  and  in 
trudging  through  the  jungle  from  watershed  to  water- 
shed. Most  of  the  Malay  villages,  of  course,  were 
situated  on  the  banks  of  these  rivers,  but  there  were  a 
certain  number  of  inland  settlements,  and  a  network 
of  narrow  footpaths  linked  each  set  of  habitations  to 
its  fellows.  A  thorough  examination  of  these  neces- 
sitated a  great  deal  of  travelling  and  camping,  and  as 


282    ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

the  local  Malays  were  not  greatly  interested  in  my 
doings,  I  got  together  a  pack  of  men,  mostly  natives 
of  Kelantan,  to  work  my  boat  on  the  river,  and  to 
carry  my  baggage  when  I  tramped. 

I  think  Umat  divined  that  I  was  lonely,  and  he 
may  even  have  dimly  realized  that  I  was  an  object 
of  pity,  for  he  used  to  creep  into  my  hut  in  the 
vvening,  and  seating  himself  upon  the  floor,  would 
Icll  me  tales  of  his  own  country  and  people  until  the 
night  was  far  advanced.  His  dialect  was  strange 
to  me  at  that  time,  and  the  manner  in  which  he 
eluded  some  of  his  vowels  and  most  of  his  consonants 
was  at  first  a  trifle  bewildering.  It  took  a  little  time 
to  master  the  phonetic  law  which  caused  anam  (dx) 
to  shrink  into  ne\  and  kerbau  (buffalo)  into  huha\ 
and  his  vocabulary  was  rich  in  local  words;  but  I 
let  him  talk ,  and  in  the  end  learned  not  only  to 
understand,  but  actually  to  talk  this  new  and  bar- 
barous brand  of  ]Malay  to  which  he  was  the  first  tv> 
introduce  me. 

Thus  Umat  and  I  became  friends,  and  life  was  i; 
thought  less  dreary  because  he  was  at  hand.  He 
taught  me  a  number  of  things  wliich  I  did  not  know 
before,  and  his  folklore  and  his  dialect  furnished 
an  interesting  study  that  served  to  enli\'en  hour? 
of  solitude  that  at  times  were  almost  overwhelm- 
ing. 

Then  came  a  })eri()(l  when  trouble  darkened  the 
land,  and  tlie  <listurbanc-cs  whicli  I  had  foretohl,  but 
in  llu'  imminence  of  wliich  T  liad  failed  to  persuade 
any  one  to  believe,  broke  out  in  e:irn<\sl.     The  war- 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     283 

path  was  to  me  a  wholly  new  experience,  but  I  had 
no  alternative  but  to  go  upon  it,  and  Umat  elected 
to  trudge  along  at  my  heels  while  most  of  his  fellows 
made  tracks  for  Kelantan,  bearing  with  them  the 
tidings  that  Pahang  was  once  more  living  up  to  its 
ancient  reputation.  The  dreary  business  dragged  on 
for  months  and  threatened  to  be  endless,  but  Umat 
stuck  to  me  through  bad  and  good  fortune  alike  with 
dogged  perseverance.  The  official  theory,  to  which 
T  was  never  able  personally  to  subscribe,  was  that 
certain  bands  of  evilly  disposed  people  were  rebelling 
against  the  Sultan,  whose  country  we  had  "pro- 
tected" for  very  sufficient  reasons,  but  very  much 
against  his  will.  But  in  Pahang,  until  the  white 
men  came,  for  thirty  long  years  no  dog  had  barked 
save  with  its  ruler's  leave,  and  to  me,  who  had  lived 
in  the  country  in  its  pristine  condition  under  native 
rule,  it  was  patent  that  disturbances  of  the  magnitude 
we  were  facing  could  never  have  broken  out  if  they 
had  lacked  royal  approval  and  inspiration. 

In  the  spring  of  ISO^,  however,  I  found  mysell 
back  at  Kuala  Lipis,  my  old  headquarters  in  the  far 
interior,  surrounded  by  a  very  restless  and  excited 
population,  and  with  written  instructions  "to  treat 
all  the  chiefs  as  friendly,  until  by  some  overt  sign 
they  i>ro\'e  themselves  to  be  hostile."  These  pre- 
cious words,  to  which,  as  most  public  servants  will 
recognize,  there  clings  the  genuine  Secretariat  odour, 
are  enshrined  in  my  memory,  but  at  the  moment  the 
humour  of  them  was  wasted  upon  me.  A  thrust 
between  the  ribs  with  a  kris  was  the  sort  of  "overt 


284    ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEX  MY  RICE 

sign"  which  our  neighbours  were  likely  to  give  us. 
For  this  we  sat  down  and  waited. 

I  had  two  white  men  with  me — a  doctor  and  an 
inspector  of  police,  both  full  of  pluck  and  of  the 
greatest  assistance  to  me;  about  twenty  Sikhs- 
overgrown  Casabiancas  every  one  of  them,  who 
would  have  stood  upon  the  burning  deck  till  they 
were  reduced  to  cinders  any  daj'  if  the  order  to  quit 
it  had  failed  to  reach  them;  and  half  a  dozen  panic- 
stricken  Malays,  recruited  in  the  Colony  to  serve  as 
constables,  and  about  as  much  good  as  the  proverbial 
sick  headache.  We  had  at  our  disposal  a  big,  un- 
wieldy stockade,  built  to  surround  certain  govern- 
ment buildings,  badly  situated,  and  much  too  large 
for  efficient  defence.  The  force  at  my  command  wjus 
quite  inadequate  to  hold  it  in  any  circumstances, 
but  our  only  chance  of  making  a  stiff  fight  of  it  lay 
in  guarding  against  a  surprise. 

The  chiefs  from  all  the  surrounding  districts,  ac- 
companied by  great  gatherings  of  their  armed  fol- 
lowers, swarmed  into  the  little  town,  and  presently 
began  to  build  stockades  in  all  the  positions  which 
commanded  our  defences.  This  was  done,  they  said, 
in  order  to  prevent  the  rebels  from  occupying  these 
points  of  vantage,  but  the  statement  was  unconvinc- 
ing. Numbers  of  them  visited  me  daily,  trying  to 
obtain  money  and  supplies,  posing  as  our  allies  with 
a  contempt  for  my  understanding  which  they  barely 
troubled  themselves  to  conceal,  and  showing  me  by 
a  hundred  subtle  indications  that  they  believed  them- 
selves to  liold  nie  in  the  hollow  of  their  hand.     Mv 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     285 

principal  preoccupation  was  to  keep  them  and  their 
armed  parties  out  of  my  stockade,  and  to  this  end  I 
hved  in  my  own  bungalow,  which  was  distant  from 
it  a  matter  of  a  couple  of  hundred  yards.  My  Chi- 
nese servants  had  come  to  me,  a  day  or  two  after  the 
arrival  of  the  chiefs,  and  had  mentioned  that  they 
understood  that  there  was  to  be  a  battle  that  after- 
noon. After  lunch,  therefore,  their  spokesman  re- 
marked, they  proposed,  with  my  leave,  to  run  away 
and  hide  themselves  in  the  jungle.  That  would  have 
meant  that  each  one  of  them  would  have  had  his 
throat  cut;  but  as  they  were  frightened  out  of  their 
wits,  though  not  out  of  their  good  manners,  and  I 
feared  that  they  would  try  the  experiment,  I  put 
them  into  a  boat  which  happened  to  be  going  down- 
river, and  so  sliipped  them  into  safety.  Thus  I  was 
left  alone  in  my  biuigalow,  save  only  for  Umat,  and 
he  and  I  kept  .watch,  turn  and  turn  about,  for  a 
matter  of  several  weeks.  He  cooked  my  rice  for  me, 
and  squatted  on  the  mat  beside  me  while  I  slept, 
and  whenever  a  chief  and  his  truculent  crew  over- 
flowed into  the  bungalow,  Umat  sat  by  fondling  his 
weapons. 

At  last  there  came  a  day  when  the  greatest  of  all 
the  chiefs  had  arrived,  and  presently  a  message 
reached  me  from  him  saying  that  he  wa::^  too  ill  to 
come  up  the  hill  to  see  me,  and  inviting  me  to  visit 
him  in  the  town.  The  position  was  not  pleasant. 
A  refusal  was  out  of  the  question,  for  having  regard 
to  the  characters  of  the  men  with  whom  we  were 
dealing,  any  sign  of  timidity  would,  T  knew,  precipi- 


286     ONE  WHP  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

tate  a  conflict.  An  ostentatious  display  of  fearless- 
ness is,  on  such  occasions,  the  only  safe  card  to  play 
with  a  Malay,  and  I  knew  that  though  the  war  party 
among  the  younger  chiefs  was  daily  gaining  strength, 
the  biggest  man  of  the  lot  was  hesitating,  and,  as  I 
thought,  capable  of  being  talked  round. 

Accordingly,  I  sent  word  that  I  would  come;  issued 
written  instructions  to  the  white  men  in  the  stockade 
on  no  account  to  quit  the  defences  in  order  to  attempt 
a  rescue  if  things  went  ill  with  me,  since  that  would 
mean  the  destruction  of  all;  armed  myself  carefully, 
and  prepared  to  set  out.  A  minor  chief  with  a  few 
followers  came,  according  to  custom,  to  escort  me  to 
the  town,  anjd  just  as  I  was  starting,  Umat,.  armed 
with  kris  an.d  spear,  and  with  a  set  look  of  resolve 
upon  his  face,  fell  in  behind  me.  I  stopped  and  took 
)iim  aside. 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  you,  to  come,"  I  said.  "If 
all  goes  well,  there  will  be  no  need  of  you.  If  aught 
goes  amiss,  what  profits  it  that  two  should  sui?"': 
instead  of  one?" 

Umat  grunted,  but  he  did  not  turn  back. 

"Return,"  I  ordered.     "I  have  no  need  of  you." 

But  Umat  showed  no  sign  of  obeying  me. 

"Tiian,'"  he  said,  "for  how  long  a  time  have  I 
eaten  your  rice  when  ybu  were  in  prosperity  and  at 
ease.'^  Is  it  then  fitting  that  I  should  quit  you  in  a 
day  of  trouble.^  Tiian,  where  you  go,  there  I  go 
also.     Where  you  lead  I  follow." 

I  said  no  more,  but  went  upon  my  way  with  Umat 
at  mv  heels.     His  devotion  not  only  touched  but 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     ->87 

fortified  me.  He  was  taking  voluntarily  risks  which 
[  was  running  because  circumstances  left  me  no 
alternative.  Moreover,  he,  I  knew,  believed  himself 
to  be  going  to  certain  death,  whereas  I  was  backing 
my  own  conception  of  the  psychology  of  the  men 
with  whom  I  was  dealing,  and  saw  in  the  action  I  was 
taking  the  one  chance  afforded  to  me  of  saving  my- 
self and  those  under  my  charge  from  a  violent  and 
unpleasant  end. 

The  interview  with  the  chiefs  was  a  long  one,  and 
throughout  it  the  knowledge  that  Umat's  great, 
Heshy  body  was  wedged  in  securely  between  my 
enemies  and  the  small  of  my  back  gave  me  an  added 
confidence  which  was  worth  many  points  in  my 
favour.  The  decision,  whether  it  was  to  be  peace  or 
war.  lay  with  the  Dato'  ^Maharaja  Perba  Jelai — 
the  great  territorial  baron  whom  I  had  come  to  see — 
who  was,  under  the  Sultan,  the  practical  ruler  of  the 
whole  of  the  interior  of  Pahang.  This  man,  before 
British  influence  had  been  extended  to  the  country, 
had  been  the  object  of  the  Sultan's  jealousy  and  had 
seen  encroachments  upon  his  authority  by  more  than 
one  royal  favourite  attempted  and  encouraged. 
Several  of  these  upstart  chiefs  were  among  the 
leaders  of  the  present  revolt,  and  the  son  of  one  of 
them  was  now  heading  the  local  war  party  at  Kuala 
iJpis  and  was  being  warmly  seconded  by  the  Dato's 
own  promising  heir.  That  these  youngsters  had  the 
Sultan's  influence  at  their  back  was  also  obvious; 
but  my  chances  of  success  lay  in  my  ability  to  dis- 
credit them  and  to  convince  llie  Dato'  tlial   ]\c  was 


288      ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

being  made  a  cat's-paw  of  by  his  old  enemies  and 
their  astute  master. 

Hardly  had  the  interview  opened  before  Mat 
Kilau,  the  youthful  leader  of  the  war  party,  cut 
abruptly  into  the  conversation.  Assuming  an  air 
of  incredulous  astonishment,  I  ignored  him  and 
turned  to  the  Dato'. 

"I  came  hither,"  I  said,  "to  see  you,  to  discuss 
matters  with  those  possessed  of  knowledge  and 
understanding,  not  to  bandy  words  with  babes.  Is 
it  fitting,  then,  and  is  it  approved  by  ancient  custom, 
that  one  who  has  but  recently  been  weaned,  ont^ 
whose  age  is  that  of  a  season  of  maize,  should  disturb 
with  his  babble  the  grave  conferences  of  his  elders?" 

I  was  laying  myself  open  to  an  obvious  retort,  but  I 
question  whether  this  occurred  to  my  audience,  and 
the  appeal  to  custom,  which  is  the  great  jNIalayan 
fetish,  was  a  sure  card.  Mat  Kilau  was  promptly 
suppressed,  and  with  him  the  war  party  was  silencer! 
at  the  outset. 

This  point  gained,  I  next  addressed  myself  to  a 
statement  of  the  case  as  it  presented  itself,  I  averred, 
to  the  eye  of  common  sense. 

Behold  a  war  had  broken  out,  and  certain  evilly 
disposed  persons  were  fighting  the  British  Govern- 
ment. Either  this  was  being  done  by  the  Sultan's 
orders,  or  it  was  not.  If  it  were,  doubtless  the  Sultan 
had  issued  his  mandate  under  his  seal,  thus  assuming 
responsibility  for  all  that  might  befall.  If  the  Dato' 
would  produce  such  a  document,  I  should  have  no 
further  word  lo  say.      NO  written  order,  I  was  told,. 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  IVIY  RICE       289 

had  been  received;  and  this  I  was  prepared  to  be- 
lieve, for  the  Sultan  was  far  too  astute  a  person  to 
commit  himself  in  such  a  fashion. 

"Then,"  said  I,  "suffer  me,  as  an  old  friend,  to  give 
you  this  much  counsel.  Turn  a  deaf  ear  to  any 
alleged  verbal  command,  for  if  you  act  against  the 
British  now,  and  have  no  formal  mandate  from  the 
Sultan  for  your  action,  you,  and  you  alone,  will  be 
held  responsible.  At  this  moment  I  and  the  men 
with  me  are  few  and  weak;  we  are  a  tempting  morsel 
for  the  youthful,  the  warlike,  and  the  unwise — like 
the  bait  that  killed  the  shark.  You  can  kill  me 
now."  (The  Dato'  politely  hastened  to  disavow  any 
such  desire.)  "You  can  kill  me  now,  you  can  kilV 
Vac  men  in  my  stockade  to-morrow  or  in  a  day  or  two; 
but  that  will  be  only  the  beginning.  If  we  fall,  in  n 
little  space  more  white  men  than  you  have  ever  seen 
or  heard  of  will  come  pouring  over  the  hills.  They 
will  burn  your  villages,  fell  your  cocoanut  groves,  kill 
your  cattle,  and  they  will  never  rest  until  thej^  have 
hanged  you  by  the  neck  until  you  are  dead,  for  the 
war  will  be  your  war,  and  in  the  absence  of  a  mandate 
from  the  Sultan  nothing  will  clear  you  of  guilt. 
Even  were  the  Sultan  openly  at  your  back,  you  would, 
at  the  best,  be  banished  to  some  distant  island,  as  is 
the  white  man's  way.  It  would  indeed  be  sad,"  I 
concluded,  "if  such  calamities  should  befall  because 
the  advice  of  hot-headed  youngsters  had  been  suffered 
to  prevail  over  the  wise  deliberations  of  their  elders." 
This  was  the  gist  of  my  argument,  but  Malay 
fashion,  we  talked  about  and  about  it  for  hours.     In 


290      ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  IVIY  RICE 

the  end,  however,  words  prevailed,  and  Umat  and  1 
won  through.  The  Dato'  dispersed  his  followers, 
while  jNIat  Kilau  and  the  bulk  of  the  war  party  re- 
tired to  a  village  some  twentj^  miles  distant,  where 
they  placed  themselves  astride  my  lines  of  com- 
munication. From  this  place,  a  couple  of  months 
later,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  dislodging  them  with 
a  portion  of  the  force  sent  across  the  mountains  to 
the  relief  of  my  stockade.  For  the  moment,  how- 
ever, all  immediate  danger  of  an  attack  on  Kuala 
Lipis  was  averted,  and  that  night  Umat  made  dark- 
ness hideous  by  the  discordant  snatches  of  song  with 
which  he  celebrated  our  diplomatic  victory,  betoken- 
ing the  reaction  occasioned  by  the  unstringing  of  his 
tense  nerves. 

Later  I  became  resident  of  Pahang,  and  T  mat 
came  with  me  to  the  capital,  and  lived  there  for  some 
years  in  a  house  in  my  comj)ound,  with  Selema,  the 
Pahang  girl,  who  made  him  so  gentle  and  faithful 
a  wife.  It  was  soon  after  his  marriage  that  his 
trouble  fell  upon  Umat,  and  swept  much  of  the  sun- 
shine from  his  life.  He  contracted  a  form  of  ophthal- 
mia, and  for  a  time  was  totally  blind.  Native  medi- 
cine-men doctored  him,  and  drew  sheafs  of  needles 
and  bunches  of  thorns  from  his  eyes,  which  they 
declared  were  the  cause  of  his  affliction.  These  and 
other  miscellaneous  odds  and  ends,  similarly  ex- 
tracted, used  to  be  brought  to  me  for  inspection  at 
breakfast-time,  floating  most  unappetizingly  in  a  cuj) 
half  full  of  oily  water;  and  Umat  went  abroad  with 
eye   sockets    stained  crimson,    or  yellow,   or  black. 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE       291 

according  to  the  fancy  of  the  native  physician.  The 
aid  of  an  Enghsh  doctor  was  called  in,  but  Umat  was 
loo  thoroughly  a  Malay  to  place  much  trust  in  the 
simple  and  untheatrical  prescriptions  provided  for 
him,  and  though  his  blindness  was  relieved,  and  he 
became  able  to  walk  without  the  aid  of  a  staff,  his 
'\vesight  could  never  be  wholly  restored  to  him. 

But  Umat  was  of  a  sanguine  temperament,  and 
wen  when  his  blindness  had  continued  for  years, 
md  each  new  remedy  had  proved  to  be  merely  one 
more  disappointment,  he  clung  unshakenly  to  the 
'»)elief  that  in  time  the  light  would  return  to  him. 
Meanwhile,  his  life  held  much  enjoyment.  All 
through  the  day  his  laugh  used  to  ring  out,  and  at 
night-time  the  compound  would  resound  to  the  songs 
he  loved  to  improvise  which  had  for  their  theme  the 
marvellous  doings  of  "Umat,  the  blind  man,  whose 
eyes  cannot  see."  His  patience  had  come  to  the 
rescue,  and  the  sorrow  of  his  blindness,  accompanied 
as  it  was  with  a  sufficient  wage  and  no  great  measure 
of  physical  exertion,  was  a  chastened  gr\H  which  he 
l)ore  with  little  com])Iaining.  He  had  aged  some- 
what, for  the  loss  of  sight  made  his  face  look  graver 
lieavier,  duller  than  of  old,  but  his  heart  remained  as 
young  as  ever. 

And  good  things  liave  not  iieki  (juite  aloof  fron* 
liim.  One  day,  as  I  sat  writing,  Umat  erupted  into 
the  room,  and  presently  the  whole  house  resounded 
with  the  news  that  he  expected  shortly  to  become  a 
father.  ^Phe  expression  of  his  face  was  a  ((ueer 
medley  of  tlelight,  excitement,  and  i)ride,  l)lent  with 


292      ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

some  anxiety  for  Selema;  and  when  he  spoke  of  the 
child,  whose  advent  he  prophesied  so  noisily,  he  be- 
came almost  sentimental. 

He  rushed  off  to  the  most  famous  midwife  in  the 
place,  and  presented  her  with  the  retaining  fee 
prescribed  by  Malay  custom — a  small  brass  dish 
filled  with  leaves  of  the  »irih  vine,  and  six  pence  of 
our  money.  The  recipient  of  these  treasures  is 
thereafter  held  pledged  to  attend  the  patient  when- 
ever she  may  be  called  upon  to  do  so,  and  after  the 
child  is  born  she  can  claim  further  payments  for  the 
services  rendered.  These  are  not  extravagantly  high, 
according  to  European  notions,  two  depreciated 
Mexican  dollars  being  the  charge  for  a  first  confine- 
ment, a  dollar  or  a  dollar  and  a  half  on  the  next 
occasion,  and  twenty -five  or  at  the  most  fifty  cents 
being  deemed  an  adequate  payment  for  each  subse- 
quent event. 

When  IJmat  had  "placed  the  sirih  leaves,"  he  had 
done  all  that  was  immediately  possible  for  Selema, 
and  he  sat  down  to  endure  the  anxieties  of  the  next 
few  months  with  the  patience  of  which  he  had  so 
much  at  his  command.  The  pantang  her-anak,  or 
birth-taboos,  hem  a  Malayan  husband  in  almost  as 
rigidly  as  they  fence  his  wife,  and  Umat  went  in 
constant  dread  of  unwittingly  transgressing  any  of  the 
laws  upon  the  nice  observance  of  which  the  welfare 
of  Selema  and  the  future  of  their  child  depended. 
He  ceased  to  shave  his  head,  foregoing  the  cool  com- 
fort of  a  naked  scalp.  He  dared  not  even  cut  his 
hair,  and  a  thick,  black  shock  presently  stood  five 


ONE  ^YHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE       293 

inches  high  upon  his  head,  and  tumbled  raggedly 
about  his  neck  and  ears.  Selema  was  about  to  be- 
come the  mother  of  his  first-born,  and  for  Umat  to 
cut  his  hair  in  such  circumstances  would  have  been 
to  invite  disaster.  He  would  not  kill  the  fowls  for 
the  cook  now,  nor  would  he  even  drive  a  stray  dog 
from  the  compound  with  violence,  lest  he  should 
chance  to  do  it  a  hurt;  for  he  must  shed  no  blood 
and  do  no  injury  to  any  living  thing  during  his  wife's 
pregnancy.  One  day  he  was  sent  on  an  en-and  up- 
river,  and  did  not  return  for  two  nights.  On  inquiry 
it  appeared  that  he  camped  in  a  friend's  house  and 
learned  next  day  that  his  host's  wife  was  also  expect- 
ing shortly  to  give  birth  to  a  child.  Therefore  he 
had  had  to  spend  at  least  two  nights  in  the  house. 
^Yhy?  Because,  if  he  had  failed  to  do  so,  he  might 
have  brought  death  to  Selema.  Why  should  this  be 
the  result.'*  Allah  alone  knoweth,  but  such  is  the 
teaching  of  the  men  of  old,  the  very  wise  ones  who 
lived  aforetime. 

But  T^mat's  chief  privation  was  that  he  was  for- 
bidden to  sit  in  the  doorway  of  his  house.  This,  to 
a  ^lalay,  was  serious,  for  the  seat  in  the  doorway, 
(it  the  head  of  the  stair-ladder  which  leads  to  the 
ground,  is  to  him  much  what  the  chimney  corner  is  to 
an  English  peasant.  It  is  here  that  he  sits  and  looks 
out  patiently  at  life,  as  the  European  stares  into  the 
heart  of  a  fire;  it  is  here  that  his  neighbours  come  to 
gossip  with  him,  and  it  is  in  the  doorway  of  his  own 
or  his  friends'  houses  that  the  rumours  that  fill  his 
narrow  world  are  borne  to  him.     I'o  obstruct  a  door- 


294      ONE  VmO  HAD  EATEN  IVIY  RICE 

way  at  such  a  time,  however,  would  have  been  fat  il 
to  Selema's  prospects,  and  almost  certain  death  to 
her  and  to  her  child;  so  though  the  restriction  robbed 
his  life  of  much  of  its  comfort,  IJmat  submitted  to  it 
with  meekness. 

His  wife,  meanwhile,  had  to  be  no  less  circumspect. 
She  bridled  her  woman's  tongue  rigorously,  and  no 
word  of  disparagement  of  man  or  beast  was  allowed 
to  pass  her  lips.  Had  she  miscalled  or  depreciated 
any  living  thing  the  consequences,  as  was  well 
known,  would  have  been  that  her  child  would  have 
reproduced  the  defects  upon  which  she  had  com- 
mented. Thisj  it  will  be  noted,  represent  Jacob's 
wands  driven  hilt-deep  into  the  ground.  She  was 
often  dropping  with  fatigue,  and  faint  and  ill  before 
her  hour  came,  but  she  dared  not  lie  down  upon  her 
mat  during  the  hours  of  daylight  lest  she  should  fall 
asleep,  in  which  case  evil  spirits  would  almost  cer 
tainly  have  entered  into  her  unborn  child.  There 
fore,  she  struggled  on  till  dusk,  and  IJmat  did  .his 
clumsy  best  to  comfort  her  and  to  lighten  her  suf 
ferings  by  constant  tenderness  and  care. 

One  night,  when  the  moon  was  nearly  at  the  full, 
the  town  suddenly  broke  out  into  a  tumult  of  dis- 
cordant sound.  The  large  brass  gongs,  in  which  the 
Chinese  devils  delight,  clanged  and  clashed  and 
brayed;  the  Malay  drums  throbbed  and  thudded; 
and  a  tremendous  clamour  was  raised  by  thousands 
of  human  voices  lifted  in  shrill  and  strenuous  outcry. 
The  jungle  on  the  distant  bank  across  the  river  echoed 
and  reechoed  the  noise,  till  the  air  seemed  to  b^ 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE       ^95 

<liiivering  with  its  vibrations.  The  moon,  which  is 
beloved  bj'  all  dwellers  in  the  tropics,  and  is  especially 
dear  to  Oriental  lovers,  was  suddenly  seen  to  be  in 
dire  peril,  for  before  the  eyes  of  all  men  the  jaws  of 
«iiat  infamous  monster,  the  Gerhdna,  could  be  seen 
\o  have  fastened  themselves  upon  her,  and  were 
swallowing  her  inch  by  inch.  Even  the  Chinese, 
who  are  astronomers  and  had  learned  how  to  foretell 
eclipses  while  our  forebears  were  still  very  rudimen- 
tary folk,  firmly  believe  in  this  legendary  causation  of 
'he  phenomenon,  and  all  men  are  enjoined  to  aid  the 
moon  on  such  occasions  h\  raising  a  tumult  that  will 
Trighten  her  assailant  away.  So  now  all  the  people 
shouted,  while  the  gongs  clanged  and  the  drums  were 
^)eaten,  until  the  terrified  dragon  withdrew,  and  the 
moon  was  seen  sailing  unharmed  across  the  sky, 
booking  down  in  love  and  gratitude  upon  her  children, 
\o  whose  aid  she  owed  her  deliverance. 

But  during  the  period  that  her  fate  had  hung  in  the 
balance  Selema  had  been  thrust  into  the  empty  fire- 
\)lace  and  had  sat  there,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Vray-like  shelf  depending  from  the  low  rafters,  trem- 
bling with  fear  of  the  unknown.  The  little  basket 
work  stand,  upon  which  the  hot  rice  pot  is  wont  to 
rest,  was  put  on  her  head  as  a  cap,  and  in  her  girdle 
tlie  long  wooden  rice  spoon  was  stuck  daggerwise. 
Thus  equipped  she  remained  motionless  and  silent 
during  the  whole  j)eriod  of  the  eclipse.  Neither  she 
nor  IJmat  had  a  notion  why  it  was  necessary  to  do 
these  things,  but  they  never  dreamed  of  c{uestioning 
'lie    t'ustom    that    j)rescri})<Ml    tliein.     'I^lie    men    of 


296    ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

olden  days  have  decreed  that  women  with  child 
should  behave  in  this  manner  when  the  moon  is  in 
trouble,  and  the  consequences  of  neglect  are  far  too 
serious  to  be  risked;  so  Selema  and  Umat  acted  ac- 
cordingly to  their  simple  faith. 

Later  came  a  day  when  Selema  nearly  lost  her  life 
by  reason  of  the  barbarities  which  Malayan  science 
holds  to  be  necessary  if  a  woman  is  to  live  through 
her  confinement  without  mishap.  Great  bands  of 
linen  were  passed  around  her  body,  and  the  ends  were 
pulled  at,  tug-of-war  fashion,  by  rival  knots  of  aged 
crones.  She  was  roasted  over  a  charcoal  brazier 
till  her  skin  was  blistered  and  she  was  well-nigh 
suffocated.  She  was  made  the  victim  of  other  in- 
describable horrors,  and  tortured  in  divers  ways. 
IJmat's  brown  face  was  gray  with  fear  and  anxiety, 
and  drawn  and  aged  with  pain.  He  paced  rest- 
lessly between  his  hut  and  my  study,  retailing  to  me 
realistic  details  of  the  enormities  being  perpetrated 
by  the  midwife  and  her  assistants,  and  he  poured  the 
tale  of  his  suspense  into  my  ears,  and  wet  the  floor 
mats  with  his  great  beady  tears.  Hours  passed, 
and  at  last  a  feeble  cry  came  from  IJmat's  house, 
a  thin  wailing  which  brought  with  it  such  relief  that 
I,  too,  found  the  apple  lumping  in  my  throat.  Umat, 
beside  himself  with  delight  and  almost  delirious  with 
joy  at  Selema's  trial  being  over,  rushed  to  me  with  the 
news  that  a  man-child  had  been  born  to  him,  and  that 
his  wife  was  doing  well.  He  was  like  a  mad  thing,  laugh- 
ing through  his  tears  antl  sobbing  in  his  laughter,  the 
most  triumphant  parent  that  I  have  ever  seen. 


ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE     ^07 

Thereafter,  nightly,  for  many  weeks,  the  cries  of 
Awang — as  the  boy  was  named — broke  the  peace 
of  my  compound  during  the  midnight  hour.  Ma- 
layan custom  was  still  busy  with  him,  and  the  poor 
Utile  wretch  was  being  bathed  ruthlessly  in  cold 
water,  after  being  dragged  out  of  his  sleep  for  the 
|)urpose,  and  then  was  dried  b\'  being  held  face 
downward  over  a  charcoal  brazier.  The  pungent 
smoke  choked  his  breath  and  pained  his  eyes,  but  he 
contrived  to  survive  this  and  other  drastic  expc 
riences,  though  he  bawled  his  protests  and  disapproval 
with  a  pair  of  sturdy  lungs.  Only  a  percentage  of 
Malayan  children  live  through  the  attentions  of 
llieir  mothers,  but  Awang  was  among  the  survivals, 
und  as  soon  as  he  was  old  enough  to  be  allowed  out 
of  the  house,  he  became  Umat's  constant  friend 
anc^  companion.  I^ong  before  he  could  speak  he  and 
Ills  father  appeared  to  have  established  a  complete 
understanding,  and  later  you  could  hear  them  hold- 
ing long  conversations  together,  on  the  matting  out- 
side my  study  door,  for  hours  at  a  time. 

As  Awang  grew  big  enough  to  use  his  legs,  he  used 
to  patter  nimbly  round  IJmat  with  an  air  which  had 
in  it  something  of  protection.  He  was  generally 
mother-naked,  save  that  now  and  again  a  cap  was 
set  rakishly  upon  one  side  of  his  little  bullet  head, 
and  when  I  spoke  to  him  he  used  to  wriggle  in  a  most 
ingratiating  fashion,  and  thrust  his  small  hand  half- 
way down  his  throat  in  his  embarrassment.  I  inat 
delighted  in  him,  and  his  eyes  followed  him  con- 
stantly, and  though  they  were  very  dim,  T  used  to 


298      ONE  WHO  HAD  EATEN  MY  RICE 

fancy  that  he  saw  Awang  more  clearly  than  anything 
else  on  earth. 

In  the  fullness  of  tniie  I  was  transferred  from 
Malaya  to  another  part  of  the  Empire,  distant  from 
it  a  matter  of  some  nine  thousand  miles,  and  shortK' 
afterward  Umat  elected  to  return  to  his  own  country, 
taking  his  Pahang  wife  and  his  several  children  with 
him.  He  had  saved  a  little  money — some  of  il 
come  by  none  too  honestly,  I  shrewdlj'  suspect — 
and  in  Kelantan  he  entered  into  possession  of  cer- 
tain ancestral  lands.  I  still  hear  tidings  of  him 
occasionally,  and  I  learn  that  he  has  blossomed  out 
into  a  sort  of  minor  headman,  his  authority  being 
mainly  based  upon  his  intinuite  knowledge  of  the 
curious  ways  of  white  men.  It  is  hardly  likely  thai 
he  and  I  will  ever  meet  again,  but  I  shall  always 
recall  with  tenderness  and  gratitude  the  man  who. 
having  eaten  my  rice  when  I  wjis  in  prosperity  and 
at  ease,  held  that  it  was  "not  fitting"  to  quit  me  u\ 
time  of  trouble. 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

WHERE  and  when  these  things  happened  does 
not  signify  at  all.  The  east  coast  of  the 
Mahiy  Peninsula  is  a  long  one;  several  native 
slates  occupy  its  seaboard;  and  until  quite  recently 
t  he  manners  of  the  rajas  who  ruled  over  them  had  not 
suffered  any  material  change  for  centuries.  Thus, 
l)oth  in  the  matter  of  time  and  of  space,  a  wide  range 
of  choice  is  afforded  to  the  imagination.  The  facts, 
anyway,  are  true,  and  they  were  related,  in  the 
watches  of  the  night,  to  a*white  man  (whose  name  does 
not  matter)  by  two  people  with  whose  identity  you 
also  have  no  concern.  One  of  the  latter  was  a  man, 
whom  I  will  call  Awang  Itam,  and  the  other  was  a 
woman  whose  name  was  Bedah,  or  something  like 
it.  The  place  which  they  chose  for  the  telling  of 
I  heir  story  was  an  empty  sailing-boat,  which  lay 
beached  upon  a  sand  bank  in  the  centre  of  a  Malayan 
river;  and  as  soon  as  the  white  man  had  scrambled 
up  the  side,  the  dug-out  which  had  brought  him 
sheered  off  and  left  him. 

He  had  come  to  this  place  \)y  api)ointment,  but 
he  knew  nothing  beyond  that  single  fact,  for  the 
assignation  had  been  made  in  llu'  furtive  natixc 
fashion  which  is  as  vuilike  the  invitation  card  of 
Europe  as  are  most   things  in   the  East  if  eomi)ared 

ii>9 


300  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

with  white  men's  methods.  Twice  that  day  his 
attention  had  been  very  pointedly  called  to  this 
deserted  sailing-boat,  once  by  an  old  crone  who  was 
selling  sweet  stuff  from  door  to  door,  and  once  by  a 
young  chief  who  had  stopped  to  speak  to  him  while 
passing  up  the  street  of  the  native  town.  By  both  a 
reference  had  been  made  to  the  moonrise  and  to  a 
"precious  tiling,"  visible  only  to  one  who  dared  to  go 
in  search  of  it  unattended;  and  though  these  hints 
had  been  dropped,  as  it  were,  by  accident,  they 
sufficed  to  show  the  white  man  that  something  was  to 
be  learned,  seen,  or  experienced  by  one  who  chose  to 
visit  the  sailing-boat  at  the  hour  of  the  moon's  rising. 

The  ^Malays  who  were  with  him  feared  a  trap, 
and  implored  him  not  to  go  alone;  but  the  white  man 
felt  certain  that  if  any  of  his  people  accompanied  him, 
his  trouble  would  be  in  vain.  Moreover,  he  had  an 
appetite  for  adventure  and  could  in  no  case  afford 
to  let  his  friends  or  his  enemies  think  that  he  was 
afraid.  The  man  who,  dwelling  alone  among  INIalays 
in  an  unsettled  country,  shows  the  slightest  trace  of 
fear,  is  apt  thereby  to  sign  his  own  death  warrant, 
while  one  who  is  believed  by  them  to  be  "spoiling 
for  a  fight"  is  usually  the  last  to  be  attacked;  for 
no  people  are  more  susceptible  to  bluff,  and  given  a 
truculent  demeanour  and  a  sufficiency  of  bravado, 
a  coward  may  pass  for  a  brave  man  in  many  a 
Malayan  state. 

The  decks  of  the  boat  were  wet  with  dew  and 
drizzle,  and  she  smelt  abominably  of  the  ancient 
fish  cargoes  which  she  had  carried  before  she  was 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  301 

beached.  A  light  rain  was  falling,  and  the  white 
man  crept  along  the  side  until  he  reached  the  stern, 
which  was  covered  by  a  roofing  of  rotten  palm-leaf 
niiits.  Then  he  squatted  down,  rolled  a  cigarette, 
and  awaited  developments. 

Presently  the  soft  splash,  ivhisp — splash,  whisp  of  a 
single  paddle  came  to  his  ear,  and  a  moment  later  he 
heard  the  sound  of  a  canoe  bumping  gently  against 
the  side  of  the  sailing-boat.  Next  a  girl's  figure  ap- 
peared, standing  erect  on  the  vessel's  low  bulwarks. 
She  called  softly,  inquiring  whether  any  one  was  on 
board,  and  the  white  man  answered  her  with  equal 
caution.  She  then  turned  and  whispered  to  some 
imseen  person  in  a  boat  moored  alongside,  and  after 
some  seconds  she  came  toward  the  white  man. 

"There  is  one  yonder  who  would  speak  with  thee, 
Tunn,"  she  said,  "but  he  cannot  climb  over  the  ship's 
side.  He  is  like  one  who  is  dead,  unless  others  lift 
him,  how  can  he  move.^  Will  the  Tiian,  therefore, 
aid  him  to  ascend  into  the  ship?" 

The  white  man  loosened  his  revolver  in  its  holster, 
covertly,  that  the  girl  might  not  see,  and  stepped 
cautiously  to  the  spot  where  the  boat  ap])eared  to 
be  moored,  for  now  he,  too,  began  to  fear  a  trap. 
What  he  saw  over  the  side  reassured  him.  The  dug- 
out was  of  the  smallest,  and  it  had  only  one  occupant, 
a  man  who,  even  in  the  dim  moonlight,  showed  the 
sharp  angles  of  his  bones.  The  white  man  let  him- 
self down  into  the  canoe,  and  aided  by  the  girl,  he 
lifted  her  companion  on  board.  He  was  in  the  last 
stages  of  emaciation,  shrunken  and  drawn  bevond 


302  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

belief,  and  the  skin  was  stretched  across  his  hollo  sv 
cheeks  like  the  goat  hide  on  a  drum  face. 

Painfully  and  very  slowly  he  crept  aft,  going  on 
all  fours  like  some  crippled  animal,  until  he  had 
reached  the  shelter  in  the  stern.  The  girl  and  the 
white  man  followed,  and  they  all  three  squatted  down 
on  the  creaking  bamboo  decking.  The  man  sat  all 
of  a  heap,  moaning  at  short  intervals,  as  Malays 
moan  when  the  fever  holds  them.  The  girl  sat 
unconcernedly  preparing  a  quid  of  betel  nut,  and  the 
white  man  inhaled  his  cigarette  and  waited  for  them 
to  speak.  He  was  trying  to  get  the  hang  of  the 
business,  and  to  guess  what  had  caused  two  people, 
whom  he  did  not  know,  to  seek  an  interview  with 
him  with  so  much  secrecy  and  precaution  in  this 
weird  place  and  at  such  an  untimely  hour. 

The  girl,  the  moonlight  showed  him,  was  pretty, 
She  had  a  small,  perfectly  shaped  head,  a  wide^ 
smooth  forehead,  abundant  hair,  bright,  laughing 
eyes,  with  eyebrows  arched  and  well  defined — "like 
the  artificial  spur  of  a  game-cock,"  as  the  Malay 
simile  has  it — and  the  dainty  hands  and  feet  which 
are  so  common  among  well-born  Malayan  women. 
The  man,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  revolting  object. 
His  shrunken  and  misshappen  body,  his  features 
distorted  bv  perpetual  twitchings,  his  taut  and  pallid 
skin,  and  his  air  of  abject  degradation  were  violently 
repellent.  Looking  at  him,  the  white  man  was  moved 
by  the  feeling  which  is  pity  driven  to  desperation — 
the  instinctive  impulse  to  hustle  the  creature  out  of 
sight,  or  to  put  it  out  of  its  misery  once  for  all — so 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  303 

abominable  was  the  humiliation  of  its  broken  man- 
hood. 

Presently  the  girl  glanced  up  at  the  white  man. 

"The  Tuan  knows  Awang  Itam?"  she  inquired. 

Yes,  the  white  man  knew  him  well  by  sight,  and  had 
spoken  with  him  on  many  occasions.  He  had  not, 
however,  seen  him  for  many  months. 

"This  is  he,"  said  the  girl,  indicating  the  crippled 
wretch  who  sat  rocking  and  moaning  by  her  side;  and 
her  words  administered  as  sharp  a  shock  to  the  white 
man  as  though  she  had  smitten  him  across  the  face. 

Awang  Itam,  when  he  had  last  seen  him,  had  been 
one  of  the  smartest  and  best  favoured  of  the  "King's 
Youths,"  a  fine,  clean-limbed,  upstanding  young- 
ster, dressed  wonderfully  in  an  extravagantly  peaked 
kerchief  and  brilliant  garments  of  many-coloured 
silks,  and  armed  to  the  teeth  with  Malayan  weapons 
of  beautiful  workmanship.  Among  the  crowd  of  lads 
who  strutted  like  peacocks,  and  looked  upon  life  as  a 
splendid  game  in  which  love  affairs  were  the  cards 
and  danger  the  counters,  he  had  been  preeminent 
for  his  swagger,  his  daring,  and  his  successes.  What 
had  befallen  him  to  work  in  him  so  appalling  a  trans- 
formation in  the  space  of  a  few  months.^  It  was  for 
the  purpose  of  revealing  this  secret  to  the  whijte  man, 
in  the  hope  that  thereby  a  tardy  retribution  might 
overtake  his  oppressors,  that  he  and  Bedah  had 
sought  this  stolen  interview. 

Tn  every  independent  Malay  state  the  budak 
raja,  or  "King's  Youths,"  are  an  established  insti- 


304  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

tution.  They  are  a  band  of  vainglorious  young, 
fighting  men,  recruited  from  the  sons  of  nobles, 
chiefs,  descendants  of  the  Prophet  Muhammad,  and 
men  belonging  to  the  more  well-to-do  families.  It 
is  their  business  to  watch  over  the  person  of  the  Sul- 
tan, to  follow  at  his  heels  when  he  goes  abroad,  to 
paddle  his  boat,  to  join  with  him  in  the  chase,  to  kill 
all  who  may  chance  to  offend  him,  and  incidentally 
to  do  a  mort  of  evil  in  his  name.  Their  principal 
aim  in  life  is  to  win  the  fickle  favour  of  their  master, 
and  having  once  gained  it,  freely  to  abuse  the  power 
thus  secured.  As  the  Malay  proverb  has  it,  "they 
carry  their  lord's  work  upon  their  heads,  and  their 
own  under  their  arms";  and  woe  betide  those,  who 
are  not  themselves  under  the  immediate  protection 
of  the  king,  with  whom  chance  brings  them  in  con- 
tact. At  times  they  act  as  a  sort  of  irregular  police 
force,  levying  chantage  from  people  detected  in  tht 
commission  of  an  offence;  and  when  crime  is  scarce. 
It  is  their  amiable  practice  to  exact  blackmail  from 
wholly  innocent  individuals  by  threatening  to  accuse 
them  of  some  ill  deed  unless  their  good  will  be  pur- 
chased at  their  own  price.  There  is,  of  course,  no 
abomination  which  their  master  can  require  of  them 
that  they  are  not  willing,  nay,  eager,  to  commit  in 
his  service;  and  no  Malayan  raja,  in  the  old  days,  ever 
needed  to  ask  twice  in  their  hearing:  "Will  no  man 
rid  me  of  this  turbulent  priest?" 

During  the  long,  long  hours  which  the  Sultan 
spends  among  his  women,  the  budak  raja  have  to  be  in 
attendance  in  the  courtyards  of  the  palace  or  at  the 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  305 

gate  of  the  royal  enclosure.  This  affords  them  the 
abundant  leisure  which  Malays  so  dearly  love,  and 
*^hey  while  away  the  time  by  loafing  and  gossiping, 
hy  plaj^ing  games  of  chance,  by  betting  on  the  spin- 
ning of  tops,  on  the  number  of  seeds  in  a  mangosteen, 
or  on  the  power  of  resistance  possessed  bj'  rival  nuts  of 
the  kind  called  biiah  kras;  they  sing  a  little,  sleep  a  good 
deal,  conceal  their  own,  and  speculate  luridly  upon 
their  neighbours'  private  intimacies,  and  for  the  rest, 
are  quite  idle,  dissolute,  and  happy.  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  add  that  they  are  greatly  feared  by  the  peas- 
ants and  immensely  admired  by  the  generality  of 
the  female  population,  for  they  are  as  reckless,  as 
unscrupulous,  as  immoral,  and  withal  as  gayly  dressed 
iind  as  well  born  a  gang  of  young  truculents  as  ever 
preyed  upon  a  defenceless  people,  or  made  open  love 
to  their  wives  and  daughters. 

More  or  less  insecurely  imprisoned  within  the 
palace  precincts  there  abides  also  yet  another  set  of 
biidak  raja — "a  monstrous  regiment  of  women" — 
some  of  whom  are  the  concubines,  permanent  or  oc- 
casional, of  the  king,  while  the  remainder  are  the 
companions,  attendants,  and  serving-girls  of  the  more 
directly  favoured  ladies.  All  of  them,  however, 
without  distinction,  are  vowed  to  the  royal  service, 
and  are  supposed  to  lead  a  celibate  existence.  Now, 
according  to  the  vernacular  proverb,  the  desires  of 
Malay  women  are  as  disproportionate  as  those  of  the 
sandfly,  the  minute  insect  which  is  said  to  have  a 
standing  wager  that  he  will  swallow  a  man  whole; 
and,  as  yet  another  Malayan  proverb  has  it,  "the 


306  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

cat  and  the  roast,  the  tinder  and  the  spark,  and  a  boy 
and  a  girl  are  ill  to  keep  asunder."  Given,  then,  as 
the  main  components  of  a  Malay  court,  a  band  of 
lusty  young  roisterers,  separated  from  a  hundred  or 
more  of  equally  idle  young  women  by  nothing  more 
substantial  than  a  few  bamboo  fences,  and  such  like 
frail  obstructions,  and  the  resulting  happenings  can 
be  more  decorously  left  to  the  imagination  than  in- 
dicated in  even  the  broadest  outline.  The  question 
of  marriage  rarely  arises,  for  it  is  only  very  infre- 
quently that  a  rcija  can  bring  himself  to  dispose  in 
this  fashion  of  any  of  the  female  inmates  of  his 
numerous  households.  Therefore,  all  love  affairs 
have  to  be  conducted  with  the  utmost  stealth  and 
secrecy;  the  atmosphere  of  the  court  is  pungent  with 
perennial  immorality  and  intrigue;  and  the  sordidness 
of  it  all  is  only  redeemed  by  the  fact  that  errant  man 
and  maid  alike  go  from  day  to  day  in  imminent 
danger  of  torture  and  death.  These  are  the  penal- 
ties of  discovery. 

Nevertheless,  the  majority  of  the  intrigues  carried 
on  by  the  palace  women  with  the  men  of  the  court 
become  sooner  or  later  more  or  less  notorious.  The 
inordinate  vanity  of  the  women  largely  contributes 
to  this,  for  they  pride  themselves  upon  the  number 
and  upon  the  recklessness  of  their  lovers.  When 
torn  by  jealousy  or  spite,  or  by  a  desire  to  be  avenged 
upon  a  faithless  wooer,  a  girl  is  often  enough  moved 
to  betraj'  the  secret  she  shares  \nth  him,  regardU'ss 
of  the  consequences  to  herself.  ^Moreover,  it  is  a 
point  of  honour  with  the  palace  women  to  exact 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  307 

love  tokens  from  their  admirers,  and  thereafter  to 
display  them  to  their  envious  companions;  and  even 
the  men  are  frequently  guilty  of  similar  indiscretions. 
Usually  the  Sultan  himself  is  the  last  person  to  learn 
what  is  going  forward,  for  though  there  are  many 
])eople  at  a  Malayan  court  who  are  eager  to  curry 
fa\our  with  him  by  telling  tales  of  their  neighbours, 
the  man  who  does  so  must  himself  be  without  sin  or 
damaging  secret  oi  his  own,  and  such  innocents  are 
passing  rare. 

Awang  Itam  had  served  the  Sultan  for  several 
years  as  one  of  the  hiidak  raja,  but  his  immediate 
chief  was  Saijdd  Usman,  a  yoimgster  who  was  also 
one  of  the  King's  Youths,  and  was  usually  spoken  of 
as  Tilan  Bangau.  Awang  had  been  born  and  bred 
in  the  household  of  which  Tuan  Bangau's  father  was 
the  head;  and,  thougli  in  accordance  with  the  im- 
nui  table  Malayan  custom,  he  always  addressed  him 
as  "Your  Highness,"  and  used  the  term  "your  ser- 
vant" in  lieu  of  the  personal  pronoun,  when  alluding 
to  himself,  the  relations  subsisting  between  him  and 
liis  chief  more  nearly  resembled  those  of  two  brothers 
than  any  which  we  regard  as  customary  between  mas- 
ter and  man.  They  had  been  born  within  a  week 
or  two  of  one  another;  had  crawled  about  the  floor 
of  the  women's  apartments  in  company  until  they 
were  old  enough  to  run  wild  in  the  open  air;  they  had 
learned  to  play  porok  and  Mju  lichang,  and  all  the 
games  known  to  Malay  childhood,  still  in  company; 
they  had  splashed  about  in  the  riv^er  together,  cooling 
their  little  brown  bodies  in  the  running  water;  they 


308  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

had  often  eaten  from  the  same  plate,  and  slept  side 
by  side  upon  the  same  mat  spread  in  the  veranda. 
Later,  they  had  been  circumcised  upon  the  same  day, 
and  having  thus  entered  upon  man's  estate,  they 
had  together  begun  to  participate  in  the  life  of  dis- 
sipation which  every  boy,  bred  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  a  Malayan  court,  regards  as  his  birthright. 

Both  had  been  duly  entered  as  members  of  the 
Sultan's  bodyguard,  and  they  had  quickly  proved 
themselves  to  be  not  the  least  reckless  or  truculent 
of  that  redoubtable  crew.  They  were  an  uncom- 
monly good-looking  pair  of  boys,  and  many  were  the 
girls  in  the  palace,  and  in  the  town  that  lay  around 
it,  who  cast  inviting  glances  in  their  direction 
Tuan  Bangau  availed  himself  to  the  full  of  hii  0|>- 
portunities,  but  Awang  had  no  taste  for  casual  love- 
affairs,  for  he  had  conceived  an  overwhelming  pas- 
sion for  a  girl  who  chanced  to  be  a  jdmah-jdmah-an, 
or  occasional  concubine,  of  the  Sultan,  and  who, 
being  somewhat  puffed  up  by  the  majesty  of  hei 
position,  was  leading  for  the  moment  a  life  of  almost 
aggressive  propriety.  She  was  none  the  less  fullv 
aware  of  the  state  of  Awang's  feelings,  and  was  noi 
averse  from  affording  him  an  occasional  glimpse  o,* 
the  charms  which  had  reduced  him  to  so  abject  u 
condition.  On  his  part,  he  was  forever  trying  to 
have  sight  of  her,  and  Tuan  Bangau  did  his  best  to 
help  him,  but  it  was  a  tantalizing  and  unsatisfj'^ing 
business  at  the  best.  It  was  an  evil  day  for  both, 
however,  when  as  they  swaggered  past  the  palace 
fence,  intent   upon  stealing  a  peep  at  the  girl,  they 


AT  A  INIALAYAN  COURT  309 

were  seen  bj"^  Tungku  Uteli,  the  Sultan's  only  daughter 
by  a  royal  mother,  to  whose  household  the  jdmah- 
jdwah-an  belonged.  There  was  a  saying  current  at 
the  court,  that  Tungku  Uteh  resembled  a  pdlong—a, 
familiar  spirit — not  physically,  for  she  was  fairly 
well  favoured,  but  in  her  capacity  to  devour  and  ruin. 
Her  father  guarded  her  jealously,  for  she  had  been 
recently  married  to  the  ruler  of  a  neighbouring  state, 
and  his  honour  was  involved;  but  public  report  said 
that  her  ingenuity  was  more  than  a  match  for  his 
vigilence,  and  from  time  to  time  some  prominent 
person  in  the  community  would  precipitately  fly  the 
country,  and  presently  the  whisper  would  spread 
Ihat  he  had  been  added  to  the  tale  of  the  princess's 
victims.  Such  a  disappearance  had  very  recently  taken 
place,  wherefore,  for  the  moment,  her  affections  were 
disengaged,  and  so  it  chanced  that  she  looked  with  the 
eyes  of  desire  at  the  young  and  handsome  Saiyid. 

In  the  East,  love  affairs  develop  quickly;  and  that 
very  day  x\wang  Itam  again  saw  lang  ^Nlunah — the 
girl  whom  he  had  loved  so  long  and  so  hopelessly — 
and  by  the  flash  of  an  eyelid  was  apprized  that  she 
had  that  to  tell  him  which  it  concerned  him  to  hear. 
When  two  people  are  set  upon  securing  a  secret 
interview,  many  difficidties  may  be  overcome;  and 
that  evening  Awang  whispered  to  Tiian  Rangau  that 
"the  moon  was  about  to  fall  into  his  lap." 

The  Saiyid  laughed. 

'T  dreamed  not  long  since,"  he  said,  "that  I  was 
bitten  by  a  very  venomous  snake,"  and  Awang 
laughed  loo,  for  he  knew  that  his  friend  was  ripe  for 


310  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

any  adventure,  and  upon  that  his  own  chances  of 
happiness  now  depended. 

To  dream  of  a  snake  bite,  among  any  of  the  people 
of  the  Far  East,  is  held  to  signify  that  ere  long  the 
dreamer  will  receive  lavish  favours  from  some  lady 
of  exalted  rank  or  surpassing  beauty.  The  more 
venomous  the  snake,  the  brighter,  it  is  believed,  will 
be  the  qualities  with  which  the  dreamer's  future  mis- 
tress is  endowed.  Tuan  Bangau  had  probably  not 
failed  to  note  the  love  glances  bestowed  upon  him  by 
the  princess,  and  these,  coupled  with  his  dream, 
sui)plied  him  with  a  key  to  the  situation. 

His  position  in  the  matter  was  rather  curious. 
He  did  not  desire  Tiingku  Uteh  for  herself;  she  was 
his  monarch's  daughter,  and  the  wife  of  a  royal  hus- 
band ;  and  his  duty  and  his  interest  alike  forbade  him 
to  accept  her  advances.  He  knew  that  if  his  in- 
trigue were  to  be  discovered,  he  would  be  a  ruined, 
if  not  a  dead  man;  and  he  was,  moreover,  at  this 
time  very  genuinely  in  love  with  another  girl,  whom 
he  had  recently  married.  In  spite  of  all  these  con- 
siderations, however,  the  princess's  overtures  were, 
in  his  eyes,  a  challenge  to  his  manhood  which  his 
code  of  honour  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  refuse. 
'^I'he  extreme  danger  of  the  business  was,  in  a  fashion, 
its  supreme  attraction.  To  evade  it,  upon  no  matter 
what  pretext,  was  to  play  the  jjoltroon;  and  on  this 
point  no  self-respecting  Malay,  brought  up  in  the 
poisonous  moral  atmosphere  of  an  independent  state, 
could  admit  of  any  other  opinion. 

And  in  this  affair  there  were  intrigues  within  hi- 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  'Ml 

trigues,  lang  Munah,  who  was  acting  as  go-between 
for  her  mistress  with  the  Saiyid,  was  to  have  her  love 
passages  with  Awang  Itam  in  comfort  and  security, 
without  incurring  any  penalties  therefor,  and  was 
moreover  to  have  the  princess's  support  in  her 
candidature  to  become  a  permanent,  and  not  a 
merely  casual  concubine  of  that  young  lady's  fathei-, 
Awang  Itam  would  accompany  his  friend  on  his 
nocturnal  visits  to  the  palace,  and  while  Tuan 
Bringau  wooed  the  princess,  her  handmaiden  would 
give  herself  to  him,  and  thus  the  desire  of  his  heart 
would  at  length  be  fulfilled.  Eagerly  he  wooed  his 
friend  on  Tungku  t^teh's  behalf,  and  of  the  twain  it 
was  he  who  was  the  impassioned  lover  when  to- 
gether the  two  young  men  stole  into  the  palace  at 
the  noon  of  the  night. 

They  effected  their  entrance  by  a  way  known 
to  few,  the  secret  of  which  had  been  conveyed  to 
them  from  the  princess,  through  lang  ^Nlunah;  and 
they  left  by  the  same  means  before  the  breaking 
of  the  dawn,  passing  by  a  circuitous  route  to  their 
quarters  in  the  guardhouse,  while  all  the  town  still 
slumbered. 

For  more  than  a  month  they  paid  their  secret 
visits  unobserved  by  any  save  those  whom  they 
sought,  and  by  an  old  crone,  who  unbarred  the  door 
for  them  to  enter;  but  one  night,  toward  the  end  of 
that  time,  they  narrowly  escaped  detection.  The 
Sultan,  like  many  ■Malay  rajas,  kept  curious  hours. 
Tlie  distinction  between  night  and  day  had  for  him 
light  or  darkness,  exactly  when  the  fancy  took  him: 


312  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

and  occasionally,  when  having  gone  to  rest  at  noon, 
he  awoke  at  midnight,  he  would  go  for  a  solitary  prowJ 
round  the  palace  precincts,  pouncing  upon  ill-doers 
like  a  roaming  beast  of  prey.  It  thus  chanced  that 
he  lighted  upon  Tuan  Bangau  and  Awang  Itam,  just 
as  they  were  quitting  the  princess's  compound;  but 
they  fled  so  swiftly  through  the  darkness  that  he 
failed  to  discover  their  identity,  and  was  equally 
unable  to  determine  that  of  the  women  whom  they 
had  risked  their  lives  to  visit.  It  was  a  hair-erecting 
experience  for  all  concerned,  however,  and  for  a 
space  the  meetings  ceased. 

But  Tungku  Uteh  was  finding  in  the  intrigue  a 
delightful  relief  to  the  general  dullness  of  palace  life, 
and  she  was  not  prepared  to  let  it  have  so  tame  an 
ending.  Tuan  Bangau,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
very  willingly  have  broken  off  the  connection,  bui 
Awang  Itam  was  in  this  matter  the  princess's  mosl 
ardent  advocate,  and  a  series  of  taunting  message* 
from  her  speedilj'^  reduced  the  Saiyid  to  acquiescence 
Greater  precautions  were  now  necessary,  however, 
and  the  meetings  no  longer  took  place  in  the  palace, 
Instead,  the  lovers  passed  the  night  in  a  shed,  within 
the  fence  of  the  royal  enclosure,  which  was  ordinarily 
used  for  storing  firewood. 

Things  had  gone  on  in  this  way  for  some  time,  when 
Tungku  Iteh  began  to  weary  of  the  lack  of  excite- 
ment attending  the  intrigue.  Her  secret  had  been 
kept  so  well  that  there  was  not  a  breath  of  scandal 
to  titillate  her  vanity.  She  regarded  Tuan  Bangau  aS 
a  lover  to  be  proud  of,  and  she  itched  to  show  her 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  313 

entourage,  the  court  world  in  general,  and  Tiian 
Bangau's  wife  in  particular,  that  he  had  fallen  a 
victim  to  her  charms.  To  possess  him  in  secret 
afforded  her  now  only  a  pale  satisfaction,  and  it 
never  even  occurred  to  her  to  consider  his  interests 
rather  than  her  own  whims.  She  knew,  of  course, 
that  discovery  would  spell  disaster,  more  or  less 
complete,  for  him,  and  incidentally  would  deprive 
her  of  her  lover;  but  for  one  of  her  adventuresome 
spirit,  that  was  a  loss  which,  in  a  Malay  court,  could 
be  replaced  without  much  difficulty,  and  since  the 
intrigue  must  have  an  end,  sooner  or  later,  it  was  just 
as  well,  from  her  point  of  view,  that  it  should  conclude 
with  a  resounding  explosion. 

One  morning,  when  the  faint  yellow  of  the  dawn 
was  beginning  to  show  through  the  grayness  low 
down  in  the  east,  and  the  thin  smokelike  clouds  were 
hurrying  across  the  sky  from  the  direction  of  the  sea, 
rtke  great  night  birds  winging  their  homeward  way, 
Tuan  Bangau  awoke  from  sleep  to  find  Tungku 
Uteh  sitting  beside  him  on  their  sleeping-mat,  with 
his  kris  and  girdle  in  her  hands.  She  had  taken  theii\ 
from  his  pillow  while  he  slept,  and  no  persuasions 
on  his  part  could  induce  her  to  restore  them  to  him. 
^^^lile  he  yet  sought  to  coax  her  to  return  his  property 
she  leaped  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  saucy  laugh, 
disappeared  in  the  palace.  Pursuit  was,  of  course, 
impossible;  and  Tiian  Bangau  and  Awang  Itam  mad(s 
their  way  homeward  with  anxious  hearts,  knowing 
I  hat  now,  indeed,  their  hour  had  come. 

Once   inside  her  own  apartments,   Tungku   I  teU 


314  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

placed  the  kris  ostentatiously  upon  the  tall  erection  of 
ornamental  pillows  that  adorned  the  head  of  her 
sleeping-mat,  and  then  composed  herself  calmly  to 
enjoy  the  tranquil  slumber  which  in  the  west  is 
erroneously  supposed  to  be  the  peculiar  privilege  of 
the  just.  The  dagger  was  famous  throughout  the 
country,  and  the  identity  of  its  owner  was  not,  of 
course,  for  a  moment  in  doubt.  Tungku  Uteh  could 
not  have  proclaimed  the  intrigue  more  resoundingly 
if  she  had  shouted  its  every  detail  from  the  hildVs 
minaret  of  the  central  mosque. 

The  Sultan's  anger  knew  no  bounds  when  he 
learned  what  had  occurred,  and  physical  violence 
was,  of  course,  the  only  means  of  its  expression,  and 
of  covering  the  shame  which  had  been  put  upon  him, 
that  presented  itself  to  his  primitive  and  unoriginal 
mind.  He  found  himself,  however,  in  a  position 
of  considerable  difficulty.  He  was  anxious  to  avoid 
])rejudicing  his  daughter's  future  with  her  kingly 
husband,  who  had  already  evinced  a  marked  dis- 
inclination to  transport  her  from  her  father's  to  his 
own  palace.  As  regards  her,  therefore,  his  hands 
were  fettered;  and  her  acute  enjoyment  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  the  shameless  levity  with  which  she  re- 
ceived his  reproofs,  combined  to  make  his  impotence 
well-nigh  unendurably  humiliating.  Tuan  Bangau, 
moreover,  was  a  member  of  a  very  powerful  clan. 
He  was  also  a  Saiyid,  and  the  Sultan  feared  that  the 
religious  fanaticism  of  his  people  would  be  aroused 
if  he  openly  punished  with  death  a  descendant  of  the 
Prophet.     Besides,  it  was  not  easy  to  j)roceed  against 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  31.5 

him  without  involving  Tungku  Uteh  in  the  scandal. 
For  the  moment,  therefore,  he  turned  his  thoughts 
to  the  other  culprits.  Awang  Itam  was  overpowered 
that  evening,  on  his  way  to  the  guardhouse,  by  a 
bevy  of  the  King's  Youths,  was  dragged  into  the 
palace,  and  thereafter  all  trace  of  him  was  lost  for 
some  months.  The  girl  lang  Munah,  all  her  bright 
dreams  of  permanent  concubinehood  scattered  to 
the  winds,  was  suspended  by  her  thumbs  from  a  roof 
beam,  and  was  soused  with  water  whenever  she  had 
the  impudence  to  faint.  The  Sultan  would  not  suf- 
fer any  graver  injury  to  be  done  to  her,  in  spite  of 
the  gentle  entreaties  of  his  wife,  Tungku  Uteh's 
mother,  as  that  farseeing  potentate  judged  it  to  be 
possible  that  his  casual  fancy  for  her  might,  at  some 
later  period,  revive. 

To  Tuan  Bangau,  however,  not  a  word  was  said; 
and  never  by  sign  or  gesture  was  he  allowed  to  guess 
that  his  crime  against  his  master's  honour  was  known 
to  the  Sultan. 

Nearly  a  year  later,  when  the  whole  incident  had 
become  a  piece  of  ancient  court  history,  the  Sultan 
chanced  to  go  ahunting,  and  took  his  way  up  a  small 
stream,  the  banks  of  which  happened  to  be  totally 
uninhabited.  Tuan  Bangau  was  of  the  party,  and 
the  other  budak  raja  who  were  on  duty  that  day  were 
jUI  men  who  had  been  selected  on  account  of  their 
discretion  and  their  unwavering  loyalty  to  the  Sul- 
tan. The  hunt  was  accommodated  in  boats,  of 
which  there  were  two,  the  Sultan  travelling  in  one, 
and  his  son,  Tungku  Saleh  in  the  other.     Besides  the 


S16  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

prince,  there  sat  in  the  latter  boat  Tuan  B^ngau  aud 
about  a  dozen  of  the  King's  Youths.  Arrived  at  a 
v-ertain  place,  Tungku  Saleh  ordered  his  men  to  make 
the  boat  fast  in  midstream  while  he  ate  some  sweet- 
meats which  his  women  had  prepared  and  packed  for 
his  use.  The  Sultan's  boat  meanwhile  went  t^n 
upriver,  and  presently  disappeared  round  a  jungle- 
<!overed  point. 

When  the  prince  had  eaten  his  fill,  he  bade  Tiian 
Bangau  and  one  or  two  other  Saiyids  who  wei( 
vimong  his  followers,  fall  to  on  the  remainder;  and  ii 
Was  while  Tuan  Bangau  was  washing  his  mouth  ovc: 
the  side  of  the  boat  after  eating,  that  Tungku  Saleh 
gave  the  signal  which  heralded  his  death.  A  man 
who  was  behind  him,  leaped  suddenly  to  his  feet  and 
stabbed  him  with  a  spear,  and  a  second  thrust,  de 
livered  almost  simultaneously  by  another  of  tlit 
party,  knocked  him  into  the  river.  Tuan  Bangau 
dived  and  came  presently  to  the  surface  in  the  shal 
low  water  near  the  bank  of  the  stream.  Here  h«i 
rose  to  his  feet,  drew  his  kris,  and  called  to  the  men 
in  the  boat  to  come  and  fight  him,  one  at  a  time,  it 
they  dared.  The  only  answer  was  a  spear  which 
struck  him  in  the  neck,  and  a  bullet  fired  from  the 
prince's  express  rifle  by  one  of  his  men,  which  pene- 
trated to  his  heart.  He  collapsed  where  he  stood, 
and  a  moment  later  all  that  remained  of  Tuan  Ban- 
gau was  a  huddled  form  lying  motionless  in  the  shal- 
low water,  with  the  eddies  playing  in  and  out  of  the 
brilliant  silk  garments,  which  had  made  him  so  brave 
a  sight  in  life. 


AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT  317 

Those  who  had  killed  him  buried  him  in  the  jungle 
near  the  place  where  he  had  fallen,  the  secret  of  the 
exact  spot  being  shared  by  three  individuals  only. 
The  report  that  he  had  strayed  from  the  hunting 
party  and  had  been  lost  was  diligently  spread,  and  to 
lend  colour  to  it  search  was  made  for  him  for  some 
days  in  a  part  of  the  forest  situated  at  a  discreet  dis- 
tance from  his  grave.  The  account  of  his  disap- 
pearance was  very  generally  disbelieved,  but  it  was 
found  to  be  impossible  of  disproof.  But  Bedah, 
his  wife,  who  had  loved  him,  had  not  rested  here. 
Deliberately'  she  had  set  herself  to  work  to  worm  the 
truth  out  of  one  of  his  miu'derers  doing  in  the  pro- 
v'ess  every  conceivable  violence  to  her  own  feelings 
und  inclinations;  and  she  now  told  all  to  the  white 
man,  hoping  that,  through  him,  vengeance  might 
perhaps  overtake  the  Sultan  who  had  planned,  and 
his  servants  who  had  carried  out  the  assassination. 
She  was  quite  indifferent  to  the  fact  that  she  thereby 
risked  the  life  which  Tiian  Bangau's  death  had  tem- 
porarily rendered  desolate. 

Al\  things  considered,  however,  the  relatives  of  the 
young  Saiyid  had  not  much  of  which  to  complain. 
He  had  got  into  mischief  with  the  Sultan's  daughter, 
and  could  not  expect  to  escape  the  penalty  of  such 
ill  doing.  Though  he  was  murdered  in  cold  blood 
in  circumstances  which  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  offer  any  resistance,  he  met  his  end,  at  any  rate, 
by  a  quick  death  and  a  clean  one.  ^Yorse  things 
may  befall,  as  Awang  Itam  had  experienced.  After 
+hat  youngster   vanished   behind    the   palace   gates. 


318  AT  A  MALAYAN  COURT 

he  became  the  victim  of  nameless  tortures.  As  he 
told  the  tale  of  the  things  that  he  had  suffered  on  the 
night  of  his  arrest — of  the  appalling  mutilations 
which  had  been  inflicted  upon  him,  and  of  the 
diabolical  ingenuity  which  had  been  used,  amid 
laughter  and  brutal  jests,  to  wreck  his  manhood,  and 
to  reduce  him  to  the  pitiful  ruin  he  had  since  become — 
the  white  man  sat  writhing  in  sympathetic  agony, 
and  was  assailed  by  a  feeling  of  horror  so  violent 
that  it  turned  him  sick  and  faint. 

"Ya  Allah!"  he  cried.  "It  were  better  far  to  die 
than  to  endure  such  excruciating  pains,  and  there- 
after to  live  the  life  which  is  no  life." 

The  cripple  looked  up  at  him  with  interest.  He 
had  evidently  been  more  accustomed  to  mockery  than 
to  pity. 

"That  is  true,"  he  said.  "It  is  true."  Then,  a 
light  that  was  almost  insane  in  its  intensity  awaking 
suddenly  in  his  dulled  eyes,  he  added,  with  some- 
thing like  triumph  in  his  tone,  "But  for  a  space  lang 
^Miinah  was  mine,  my  woman  to  me,  and  willingly 
would  I  endure  anew  the  worst  that  men  can  do  if  for 
a  little  I  could  be  what  of  old  I  was,  and  the  desire 
in  my  heart  could  once  more  be  satisfied." 

The  spark  of  energy  and  spirit  died  out  of  him  as 
(juickly  as  it  had  been  kindled.  He  seemed  to  col- 
lapse upon  himself,  and  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper: 

"But  now  she  has  again  become  a  jdmah-jdmah-an 
— a  casual  concubine  of  the  Sultan — and  in  that 
knowledge  lurks  the  keenest  of  all  my  agonies." 


THE   AMOK   OF   DATO'   KAYA   BIJI   DERJA 

THE  average  stay-at-home  European  knows 
little  about  the  Malay  and  cares  less.  Any 
fragmentary  ideas  that  he  may  have  con- 
cerning him  are  obtained,  for  the  most  part,  from 
light  literature  of  the  kind  which  caters  for  the  latent 
barbarism  of  the  A'oung,  with  the  amiable  object  of 
awakening  in  them  a  spirit  of  adventure  which  the 
circumstances  of  later  life  will  render  it  impossible 
for  the  vast  majority  in  any  degree  to  satisfy.  Books 
of  this  class,  which  are  apt  to  be  more  sensational 
that  accurate,  ordinarily  depict  the  Malay  either 
as  a  peculiarly  "treacherous"  person,  much  as  wild 
beasts  that  stand  up  for  themselves  are  denounced 
as  "vicious"  by  big  game  shooters;  or  else  as  a  wild- 
eyed,  long-haired,  blood-smeared,  howling,  naked 
savage,  armed  with  what  Tennyson  calls  "the  cursed 
Malayan  crease,"  who  spends  all  his  spare  time 
running  "amuck." 

.\s  a  matter  of  fact,  «//<o/i--running  was  not  an 
event  of  very  fre(|uent  occurrence,  even  in  the  law- 
less and  unregenerate  days  of  wliich  I  chiefly  write; 
but  mistaken  notions  concerning  it,  and  more  es- 
pecially with  regard  to  the  reasons  that  impel  Malays 
to  indulge  in  it,  arc  not  confined  to  those  Europeans 
who  know  nothing  of  the  natives  of  the  Peninsula. 

319 


.'320  AMOK  OF  DATO'  KxIYA  BIJI  DERJA 

White  men,  in  the  East  and  out  of  it,  have  attempted 
to  treat  dmoA:-running  from  a  purely  pathological 
standpoint — to  attempt  to  ascribe  it  to  a  morbid 
condition  of  the  brain  cells  peculiar  to  the  Malays— 
and  to  ignore  the  psychological  causation  which  is 
usually  responsible  for  these  homicidal  frenzies. 
Some  amok,  no  doubt,  are  the  result  of  insanity  pur 
et  simple;  but  outbreaks  of  this  kind  are  common  to 
madmen  of  all  races  and  are  largely  a  question  of 
opportunity.  Given  a  lunatic  who  has  arms  always 
within  reach,  and  physical  injury  to  his  neighbours 
at  once  becomes  a  highly  likely  occurrence;  and  as  in 
an  independent  jVIalay  state  all  men  invariably  went 
armed,  the  scope  of  the  homicidal  maniac  was  there- 
by sensibly  enlarged.  Such  dmx)k-T\xnnu\g,  however, 
was  in  no  sense  typical,  nor  did  it  present  any  of  the 
characteristic  features  which  differentiate  a  Malayan 
amok  from  similar  acts  committed  by  men  of  othei 
nationalities. 

By  far  the  greater  number  of  Malayan  amok  are  the 
result,  not  of  a  diseased  brain,  but  of  a  condition  of 
mind  which  is  described  in  the  vernacular  by  Ihe 
term  sdkit  hdti — sickness  of  liver — that  organ,  and 
not  the  heart,  being  regarded  as  the  centre  of  sensi- 
bility. The  states  of  feeling  which  arc  denoted  by 
this  phrase  are  numerous,  complex,  and  differ  widely 
in  degree,  but  they  all  imply  some  measure  of  griev- 
ance, anger,  excitement,  and  mental  irritation.  In 
acute  cases  they  attain  to  something  very  like 
despair.  A  INIalay  loses  something  that  he  values; 
be   has   a    bad   night   in   the  gambling   houses;   his 


AMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJT  D£RJA  321 

father  dies,  or  his  mistress  proves  unfaithful.  Any- 
one of  these  things  causes  him  "sickness  of  liver." 
In  the  year  1888  I  spent  two  nights  awake  by  the 
side  of  Raja  Haji  Hamid,  who  was  on  the  verge  of 
such  a  nervous  outbreak;  and  it  was  only  by  bringing 
to  bear  every  atom  of  such  moral  influence  as  I  had 
ove''  him,  that  I  was  able  to  restrain  him  from  run- 
ning amok  in  the  streets  of  Pekan,  the  capital  of 
Pahang,  because  his  father  had  died  a  natural  death 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Peninsula,  and  because  the 
then  Sultan  of  Selangor  had  behaved  with  character- 
istic parsimony  in  the  matter  of  his  funeral.  He  had 
no  quarrel  \\'ith  the  people  of  Pahang,  but  his  liver 
was  sick,  and  the  weariness  of  life  which  this  condi- 
tion of  mind  engendered  impelled  him  to  kill  all  and 
simdry,  until  he  himself  should,  in  his  turn,  be  killetl 
I  might  multiply  instances  all  pointing  to  tht 
same  conclusion — namely,  that  most  duwk  are  caused 
b}^  a  mental  condition  which  may  be  the  result  of 
serious,  or  of  comparatively  trivial  troubles  that 
makes  a  Malay,  for  the  time  being,  unwilling  to  live. 
In  similar  circumstances,  a  white  man  sometimes 
commits  suicide,  which  is  much  more  convenient 
for  his  neighbours;  but  I  know  of  no  authenticated 
case  of  a  male  Malay  resorting  to  self-murder,  and 
the  horror  with  which  such  an  act  is  regarded  by  the 
people  of  this  race  supplies  the  real  reason  why 
«???oA'-running  is  practised  in  its  stead.  Oftei 
enough  something  quite  trivial  furnishes  the  original 
provocation,  and  in  the  heat  of  tlie  moment  a  blow 
is  struck  bv  a  man  against  one  wlio  is  dear  to  him. 


322  Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  d£rja 

Forthwith  the  self-hatred  that  results  makes  him 
desire  death  and  drives  him  to  seek  in  it  the  only 
way  which  readily  occurs  to  a  Malay — by  running 
dnwk.  The  amok-runner,  moreover,  almost  always 
kills  his  wife,  if  the  opportunity  occurs.  Being 
anxious  to  die  himself,  he  sees  no  good  reason  why 
any  woman  in  whom  he  is  interested  should  be  suf- 
fered to  survive  him,  and  thereafter,  in  a  little  space, 
to  become  the  property  of  some  other  man.  He  also 
frequently  destroys  his  more  valued  possessions  for  a 
similar  reason.  In  all  this  there  is  a  considerable 
amount  of  method;  and  though  the  euphemism  of 
"temporary  insanity,"  commonly  employed  by  cor- 
oner's juries  when  returning  verdicts  in  cases  of 
suicide,  may  be  applied  to  the  d??ioA:-runner  with  pre- 
cisely the  same  degree  of  inaccuracy,  it  is  absurd  to 
treat  the  latter  as  though  he  were  the  irresponsible 
victim  of  disease. 

The  following  story,  for  the  truth  of  which  I  can 
vouch  in  every  particular,  is  only  worth  telling  be- 
cause it  affords  a  typical  example  of  a  Malaj'an 
amok  conducted  upon  a  really  handsome  scale. 

There  is  a  proverbial  saying  current  among  the 
Malays  which  is  by  way  of  liitting  off  the  principal 
characteristics  of  the  natives  of  some  of  the  leading 
states  in  the  Peninsula  and  Sumatra.  "AVheedlers 
are  the  sons  of  Malacca,"  it  declares.  ""Buck-sticks 
the  men  of  "Menangkabau ;  cheats  the  men  of  Ram- 
bau;  liars  the  men  of  Trengganu;  cowards  the  men  of 
Singapore;  sneak-thieves  the  men  of  Kflantan;  and 


Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  d£rja  srs 

ciiTogant  are  the  men  of  Pahang."  By  far  the  most 
salient  qualities  of  the  people  of  Trengganu,  however, 
are  their  profound  love  of  peace,  their  devotion  to 
their  religion  and  to  study,  and  their  skill  both  as 
artisans  and  as  traders.  On  the  lawless  East  Coast 
thirty  years  ago  men  who  did  not  love  fighting  for 
fighting's  sake  were  regarded  bj'  their  neighbours  as 
an  anomaly,  as  something  almost  monstrous;  and 
the  mild  temperament  of  the  natives  of  Trengganu, 
coupled  with  their  extraordinary  business  aptitude, 
brought  them  in  those  days  contempt  and  wealth 
in  more  or  less  equal  measure.  Their  religious  fer- 
vour is  in  part  due  to  the  existence  among  them  of  an 
hereditary  line  of  saints — the  Saiyids  of  Paloh — who 
have  succeeded  one  another  from  father  to  son  for 
several  generations,  and  have  attained  to  an  extraor- 
dinary reputation  for  i)iety  by  an  ostentatious 
display  of  virtue,  by  public  preachings,  and  by  the 
occasional  performance  of  minor  miracles.  For  the 
rest,  the  people  of  Trengganu  excel  as  craftsmen,  and 
they  are  accustomed  to  flood  the  native  markets 
with  all  manner  of  spurious  imitations  of  goods  of 
high  repute.  The  dyes  which  they  use  are  never 
fast.  The  gold-threaded  turban  cloths,  which  their 
pilgrims  carry  to  Mecca  and  dispose  of  there  as 
articles  of  genuine  Arab  manufacture,  wear  out  with 
surprising  rapidity;  and  the  unabashed  eloquence 
with  which  a  '^rrengganu  trader  will  discourse  con- 
cerning the  antiquity  of  some  object  which  he  has 
fashioned  with  his  own  hands,  and  the  calm  with 
which  he  regards  detection,  have  won  for  his  people 


324  Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  d£rja 

the  reputation  for  lying  which  rightly  belongs  to 
them.  Here,  however,  alone  among  the  Malayan 
states,  a  great  name  was  to  be  won,  not  by  prowess 
as  a  warrior,  but  by  renown  as  a  saint,  a  sage,  or  a 
successful  man  of  business.  Every  man  bore  arms, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  for  that  was  the  Malayan 
custom;  but  very  few  ever  found  occasion  to  use 
them,  and  one  and  all  had  a  natural  horror  of  battle 
in  any  shape  or  form.  It  is  necessary  to  realize  this, 
for  it  is  probable  that  in  no  other  state  in  the  Penin- 
sula could  the  amok  which  the  Dato'  Kaya  Bfji 
Derja  ran  in  the  streets  of  Kuala  Trengganu  have 
met  with  such  inefficient  opj)osition. 

When  Baginda  Umar,  who  conquered  the  country 
{^xrly  one  morning  after  landing  at  the  head  of  some 
fifty  warriors,  ruled  in  Trengganu,  there  was  a  chief 
named  Dato'  Bentara  Haji,  who  was  one  of  the  king's 
adopted  sons,  and  early  in  the  reign  of  the  present 
Sultan  the  title  of  Dato'  Kaya  Biji  Derja  was  con- 
ferred upon  this  man's  eldest  son.  The  public  mind 
was  much  exercised  at  this,  for  the  title  was  not  one 
which  it  was  usual  to  bestow  upon  a  commoner,  and 
Jusup,  the  youth  now  selected  to  bear  it,  was  un- 
proven  and  was  possessed  of  little  personality.  Ho 
was  of  no  particular  birth,  his  father  having  been 
merely  a  king's  favourite;  he  had  little  reputation 
as  a  scholar,  such  as  the  Trengganu  people  revere; 
and  he  was  not  even  skilled  in  the  warriors'  lore 
whicli  of  old  was  so  dear  to  the  ruder  natives  of 
Pahang. 


AMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJI  D£RJA  3<2o 

The  new  Dato'  Kaya  was  miserablj-  conscious  of 
his  own  unfitness  for  his  exalted  office,  though  there 
was  attached  to  it  no  duty  save  that  of  looking  the 
part,  and  he  accordingly  set  to  work  to  acquire  the 
elemu  hulubdlaiig,  or  occult  sciences,  which  it  behooves 
a  fighting  man  to  possess.  In  peaceful  Trengganu 
there  weie  few  warriors  capable  of  instructing  him 
in  the  arts  he  desired  to  learn,  though  for  a  time  he 
apprenticed  himself  to  Tiingku  Long  Pendekar,  who 
was  a  skillful  fencer.  He  took,  therefore,  to  haunt- 
ing graveyards  by  night,  hoping  that  the  ghosts  of 
the  fighting  men  of  ancient  times  would  appear  to 
him  and  impart  to  him  the  lore  which  had  perished 
with  them.  But  the  Dato'  had  a  wife  who  was  of  a 
jealous  disposition,  and  she  persisted  in  misunder- 
standing the  purity  of  the  motives- which  caused  her 
husband  to  absent  himself  so  frequently  at  night- 
time. Violent  disputes  followed,  and  at  last,  for  the 
sake  of  peace,  the  Dato'  abandoned  his  nocturnal 
prowlings  among  the  graves  and  settled  down  to  lead 
the  obscure  domestic  existence  for  which  nature  had 
intended  him. 

One  day  his  father,  Dato'  Bentara  Haji,  fell  sick 
and  was  removed  to  the  liouse  of  one  Che'  Ali,  who 
was  a  medicine-man  of  some  repute.  To'  Kaya  was 
a  dutiful  son,  and  he  paid  many  visits  to  his  father 
during  his  illness,  tending  him  assiduously,  and  in 
consequence  returned  to  his  own  home  at  a  latf 
hour  on  more  than  one  occasion.  This  was  an  okl 
cause  of  offence,  and  angry  recriminations  between 
him  and  his  wife  ensued.     Their  disagreement  was 


326  Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  d£rja 

made  more  bitter  by  To'  Kaya  discovering  a  stringy 
thread  of  egg  in  one  of  the  sweetmeats  prepared  for 
him  by  his  wife,  and  mistaking  it  for  a  human  hair. 
To  European  ears  this  does  not  sound  very  important, 
but  To'  Kaya,  in  common  with  most  Malays,  be- 
lieved that  the  presence  of  hair  in  his  food  betokened 
that  his  wife  was  either  trying  to  poison  him  or  else 
to  put  upon  him  some  spell.  He  accused  her  roundly 
of  both  crimes,  and  a  row  royal  followed. 

Next  evening  To'  Kaya  was  again  in  attendance 
upon  his  father  until  a  late  hour,  and  when  he  at 
length  returned  home,  his  wife  greeted  him  through 
the  closed  door  with  loud  reproaches  for  his  supposed 
infidelity  to  her.  He  cried  to  her  to  unbar  the  door, 
and  when  she  at  last  did  so,  railing  virulently  the 
while,  he  shouted  angrily  that  he  would  have  to  stab 
her  in  order  to  teach  her  better  manners  if  she  did 
not  make  haste  to  mend  them. 

At  this  she  was  seized  by  a  perfect  transport  of 
rage,  and  making  a  gesture  which  is  the  grossest  insult 
that  a  Malay  woman  can  put  upon  a  man,  she  yelled 
at  him,  "Hai!     Stab,  then!     Stab — if  j'ou  are  able!" 

It  was  now  To'  Kaya's  turn  completely  to  lose  his 
head  and  his  temper.  He  drew  l^is  kris  clear  of  its 
scabbard,  and  she  took  the  point  in  her  breast,  their 
baby,  who  was  on  her  arm,  being  also  slightly 
wounded. 

Dropping  the  cliild,  with  unerring  maternal  in- 
stinct, she  rushed  past  her  husband,  leaped  to  the 
ground,  and  took  refuge  in  the  house  of  a  neighbour 
named  Che'  Long. 


Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  dErja  327 

To'  Kaya  pursued  her,  and  cried  to  those  within 
the  house  to  unbar  the  door  which  his  wife  had  shut 
in  his  face.  Che'  Long's  daughter,  a  girl  named 
Esah  ran  to  comply  with  his  bidding;  but  before  she 
could  do  so,  To'  Kaya,  who  had  crept  under  the 
raised  floor  of  the  house,  stabbed  at  her  savagely 
through  the  interstices  of  the  bamboo  flooring, 
wounding  her  in  the  hip. 

The  girl's  father,  hearing  the  noise,  fliuig  the  door 
open  and  ran  out  of  the  house.  To'  Kaya  greeted 
him  with  a  spear  thrust  in  the  stomach,  which  i)roved 
his  death  blow.  To'  Kaj^a's  wife,  profiting  by  this 
interlude,  leaped  from  the  house  and  rushed  back  to 
her  own  home;  but  her  husband  followed  her,  over- 
took her  on  the  veranda,  and  stabbed  her  again  in 
the  breast,  this  time  killing  her  on  the  spot. 

He  then  entered  his  house,  which  was  still  tenanted 
by  his  mother-in-law,  the  baby,  and  his  son,  a  boy 
of  about  twelve  years  of  age,  and  set  fire  to  the  bed 
curtains  with  a  box  of  lucifer  matches.  Now  the 
people  of  Trengganu  greatly  dread  a  fire,  for  their 
houses,  which  are  built  of  very  inflammable  material, 
jostle  one  another  on  every  available  foot  of  ground, 
and  here  on  the  seashore  a  steady  wind  blows  both 
by  day  and  by  night.  When,  therefore,  a  Trengganu 
man  deliberately  sets  fire  to  his  hous(\  he  has  n^iched 
tlie  last  stage  of  desperation  and  is  prei)aring  to  make 
an  end  of  himself  and  all  things. 

At  the  sight  of  the  flames  To  Kaya's  little  son 
made  a  rush  at  the  curtains,  pulled  ihem  down,  and 
stamped    the   fire   out.     To'   Kaya's   mother-in-law. 


328  Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  d£rja 

meanwhile,  rushed  out  of  the  door,  seized  the  baby 
who  still  lay  squalling  where  it  had  fallen  on  th.* 
veranda,  and  set  off  at  a  run.  The  sight  of  hh 
mother-in-law  in  full  flight  spurred  To'  Kaya  to 
instant  pursuit,  and  he  speedily  overtook  her  and 
stabbed  her  through  the  shoulder.  She,  however, 
succeeded  in  eluding  him,  and  made  good  her  escape, 
carrying  the  baby  with  her.  To'  Kaya  then  returned 
to  his  house,  whence  his  son  had  also  fled,  and  set 
it  afire  once  more,  and  this  time  it  blazed  up 
bravely. 

As  he  stood  looking  at  the  flames  a  Kelantan  num 
named  Abdul  Rahman  came  uj)  and  asked  him  how 
the  conflagration  had  originated. 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  To'  Kaya. 

"Then  let  us  try  to  save  some  of  the  property," 
said  Abdul  Rahman;  for  as  is  the  case  with  many 
Kelantan  men,  he  chanced  to  be  a  tliief  by  trade  and 
knew  that  a  fire  gave  him  a  good  opportunity  for  the 
successful  practice  of  his  profession. 

"Good,"  said  To'  Kaya.  "Do  you  mount  inl:) 
the  house  and  lift  down  the  boxes  while  I  wait  here 
below  to  receive  them." 

Nothing  loth,  Al)dul  Rahman  climbed  into  llie 
house  and  presently  reappeared  with  a  large  box  in 
his  arms.  As  he  leaned  over  the  veranda  in  the  act 
of  handing  it  down  to  To'  Kaya,  the  latter  stabbed 
him  shrewdly  in  the  vitals  and  box  and  man  came  to 
tiie  ground  with  a  crasli.  Abdul  Rahman  picked 
himself  up  and  ran  as  far  as  the  open  space  before? 
the  big  stone  mosque  where  he  collapsed  and  died. 


AiVIOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BiJI  DfiRJA  3W 

To'  Kaya  did  not  pursue  him,  but  continued  to  stand 
gazing  at  the  leaping  flames. 

The  next  person  to  arrive  on  the  scene  was  a 
Trengganu  man  named  Pa'  iPek,  who  with  his  wife. 
Ma'  Pek,  had  tended  To'  Kaya  when  he  was  httle. 

"Wo',"  he  said,  for  he  addressed  To'  Kaya  as 
though  the  latter  were  his  son,  "Wo',  what  caused 
this  fire?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  To'  Kaya. 

"Where  are  the  children?"  inquired  Pa'  Pek. 

"They  are  still  within  the  house,"  replied  To' 
Kaya. 

"Then  suffer  me  to  save  them,"  said  Pa'  Pek. 

"Do  so,  Pa'  Pek,"  said  To'  Kaya;  and  as  the  old 
man  began  to  climb  into  the  house  he  stabbed  him 
in  the  ribs. 

Pa'  Pek  fell,  gathered  himself  together,  and  ran 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  mosque  till  he  tripped 
over  the  body  of  Abdul  Rahman  tumbled  in  a  heap, 
and  eventually  died  where  he  lay. 

Presently  ]\Ia'  Pek  came  to  look  for  her  husband 
and  finding  To'  Kaya  standing  near  the  burning 
house,  asked  him  about  the  fire  and  in({uired  aftei 
the  safety  of  his  children. 

"They  are  still  in  the  house,"  said  To'  Kaya,  "but 
T  cannot  be  at  the  pains  of  getting  them  out." 

"Then  suffer  me  to  fetch  them,"  said  the  old 
woman. 

"Do  so,  by  all  means,"  said  To'  Kaya;  and  as  she 
began  to  scramble  up  the  stair-ladder,  he  stabbed  her 
just  as  he  had  stabbed  her  husband  and  she  running 


330  AMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJI  D£RJA 

away  fell  over  the  two  other  bodies  near  the  mosque 
and  there  gave  up  the  ghost. 

Next  a  Trengganu  lad  named  Jusup  came  up. 
armed  with  a  spear,  and  To'  Kaya  at  once  attacked 
him,  but  he  took  shelter  behind  a  tree.  To'  Kaya 
thereupon  emptied  his  revolver  at  him  missing  him 
with  all  six  chambers;  and  then,  throwing  away  his 
pistol,  he  stabbed  at  him  with  his  spear.  Jusup 
dodged  the  blow  which  in  the  darkness  struck  the 
tree.  Immediately  To'  Kaya,  believing  the  tree  to 
be  Jusup's  body,  was  seized  with  panic. 

"You  are  invulnerable!"  he  cried  in  horror  and 
promptly  turned  and  fled.  Jusup,  meanwhile,  made 
off  in  the  opposite  direction  as  fast  as  his  legs  would 
carry  him. 

Finding  that  he  was  not  pursued.  To'  Kaya  pres- 
ently retraced  his  footsteps  and  made  his  way  to 
the  house  of  Tungku  Long  Pendekar,  under  whom 
he  had  formerly  studied  fencing  and  other  arts  of 
war.  At  the  alarm  of  fire  all  the  men  in  the  house 
had  set  to  work  to  remove  their  effects  to  a  place  of 
safety,  and  when  To'  Kaya  arrived,  Tungku  Long 
himself  was  standing  without,  watching  their  opera- 
tions while  the  others — Tungku  Itam,  Tungku  Pa, 
Tungku  Chik,  and  Che'  Mat  Tiikang — were  busying 
themselves  witliin  doors.  With  the  exception  of 
Che'  Mat  Tukang,  who  was  a  commoner,  all  the 
others  were  men  of  royal  stock.  Tungku  Long  was 
armed  with  a  rattan-work  shield  and  an  ancient  and 
very  jiliable  native  sword.  As  he  stood  gazing  up- 
ward <^(iiite  unaware  that  any  trouble  other  than  that 


Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bUi  derja  'mm 

occasioned  by  the  fire  was  at  hand,  To'  Kaya  sud- 
denly flung  himself  upon  him  out  of  the  darkness  and 
stabbed  him  in  the  ribs.  Thereafter,  for  a  space, 
they  fought,  Tiingku  Long  lashing  his  assailant  again 
and  again  with  his  sword,  but  inflicting  upon  him 
nothing  more  serious  than  a  number  of  bruises.  At 
length  To'  Kaya  was  wounded  in  the  left  hand  and 
at  the  same  moment  he  struck  Tungku  Ivong's  shield 
with  such  force  that  its  owner  fell.  To'  Kaya  at 
once  trampled  upon  him  and  stabbing  downward, 
as  one  spears  a  fish,  pinned  him  through  the  neck. 
At  this  Tungku  Itam,  who  had  been  watching  the 
struggle  without  taking  any  part  in  it,  much  as 
though  it  were  a  mere  cock  fight,  showed  the  great- 
est presence  of  mind  by  taking  to  his  heels. 

Tungku  Long  being  disposed  of,  To'  Kaya  turned 
and  passed  out  of  the  compound,  whereujjon  Che' 
Mat  Tukang  ran  out  of  the  house,  climbed  tlie  fence, 
and  threw  a  spear  at  him,  striking  him  in  the  back. 
This  done,  Che'  ]Mat  also  most  prudently  ran  away. 

To'  Kaya,  passing  up  the  path,  met  a  woman 
named  Ma'  Chik — an  aged,  bent,  and  feeble  crone — 
and  her  he  stabbed  in  the  breast,  killing  her  on  the 
spot.  Thence  he  went  to  the  compound  of  a  pilgrim 
named  Haji  Mih,  who  also  was  })usy  getting  his 
l)roperty  out  of  his  house,  fearing  that  the  fire  might 
spread. 

"What  lias  caused  tliis  fire?"  Ilaji  Mih  iiupiired  of 
To'  Kaya. 

"God  alone  knows,"  rej)hed  To'  Kaya,  and  so 
saying,  he  stabbed  Ilaji  Mih  through  the  shouhh  r. 


332  AxMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJI  DERJA 

"Help!  Help!"  roared  the  pilgrim,  and  his  son- 
ui-Iaw,  Saleh,  and  four  other  men  ran  out  of  the  house, 
threw  themselves  upon  To'  Kaya,  and  engaged  him 
%o  hotly  that  in  stepping  backward  he  tripped  and 
fell.  As  he  lay  on  his  back,  however,  he  stabbed  up- 
ward, striking  Saleh  in  the  elbow  and  deep  into  his 
chest;  whereupon  all  his  assailants  incontinently  fled. 

To'  Kaya  then  picked  himself  up.  He  had  not 
been  hurt  in  the  struggle,  for  Saleh  and  his  people 
had  not  stayed  to  unbind  their  spears  which  were 
fastened  into  bundles,  and  save  for  the  slight  wounds 
which  he  had  received  in  his  left  hand  and  in  his 
back,  he  was  so  far  little  the  worse  for  his  adventures. 

He  now  withdrew  to  the  Makam  Lebai  Salam^ — 
the  grave  of  an  ancient  saint  of  high  repute — and 
here  he  bathed  in  a  well  hard  by,  dressed  himself  and 
ate  half  a  tin  of  Messrs.  Huntly  &  Palmer's  "gem"  bis- 
cuits, which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  his 
house. 

His  toilet  and  his  meal  completed,  he  returned  to 
the  house  of  Haji  ^Nlih  and  shouted  in  a  loud  voice: 

"Where  are  those  men,  my  enemies,  who  engaged 
me  in  fight  a  little  while  agone.^" 

It  was  now  3  a.  m.,  but  the  men  were  awake  and 
heard  him. 

"Come  quickly,"  he  cried.  "Come  quickly  and 
let  us  finish  this  little  business  with  no  unnecessary 
delay." 

At  this  challenge  no  less  than  ten  men  who  hnd 
gathered  in  Haji  Mill's  house  came  out  and  began  to 
throw  spears  at  To'  Kaya;  but  though  they  struck 


AlNIOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJI  DERJA  3S3 

him  more  than  once  they  did  not  succeed  in  wound- 
ing him.  He  retreated  before  their  onslaught,  keep- 
ing his  face  turned  toward  them  and  so  chanced  to 
trip  over  a  root  near  a  clump  of  bamboos,  lost  his 
footing,  and  fell.  His  assailants  fancied  that  they 
had  killed  him  and  at  once  fear  seized  them,  for  he 
was  a  chief,  and  they  had  no  warrant  from  the  Sul- 
tan. They,  therefore,  fled  and  To'  Kaya  gathered 
himself  together  and  went  back  to  Lebai  Salam's 
grave  where  he  finished  eating  the  tin  of  "gem" 
biscuits. 

At  dawn  he  came  once  more  to  Haji  Mih's  house, 
and  halted  there  to  bandage  his  wounds  with  some 
cotton  rags  which  had  been  bound  about  a  roll  of 
mats  and  pillows  that  Haji  Mih  had  removed  from 
his  house  at  the  alarm  of  fire.  Again  he  shouted  to 
the  men  in  the  house  to  come  forth  and  fight  with 
him  anew,  but  no  one  replied,  so  he  laughed  aloud 
and  went  down  the  path  till  he  came  to  the  compound 
which  belonged  to  Tungku  Pa.  The  latter  and  a 
man  named  'Semail  were  seated  upon  the  veranda, 
and  when  the  alarm  was  raised  that  To'  Kaya  was 
approaching,  Tungku  Pa's  wife,  acting  on  a  fine 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  slammed  to  the  door 
and  bolted  it  on  the  inside  while  her  husband  danced 
without,  clamouring  to  be  let  in. 

Tungku  Pa  was,  of  course,  a  man  of  royal  blood, 
but  To'  Kaya  addressed  him  as  though  he  were  an 
equal. 

"O  Pa,"  he  cried.  "I  have  waited  for  you  the 
long  night  through,  though  you  did  not  come.     I 


334  Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bUi  dErja 

liave  greatly  desired  to  fight  with  a  man  of  rank.  At 
last  we  have  met  and  now  I  shall  have  my  wish." 

'Semail  at  once  made  a  bolt  of  it,  but  To'  Kaya  was 
too  quick  for  him,  and  as  he  leaped  down  the  stair- 
ladder,  the  spear  took  him  through  the  body  and  he 
died. 

Timgku  Pa,  still  standing  on  the  veranda,  stabbed 
downward  at  To'  Kaya  with  a  spear  and  struck  him 
in  the  groin,  the  blade  becoming  bent  in  the  muscles 
so  that  it  could  not  be  withdrawn.  This  was 
Tiingku  Pa's  opportunity;  but  instead  of  seizing  it 
and  rushing  in  upon  his  enemy  to  finish  him  with  his 
kris,  he  let  go  the  handle  of  his  spear,  and  ran  to  a 
large  water  jar  on  the  veranda,  behind  which  he 
sought  shelter.  To'  Kaya  tugged  at  the  spear  and  at 
length  succeeded  in  wrenching  it  free.  Seeing  this, 
Tiingku  Pa  broke  cover  from  behind  the  water  jar  and 
took  to  his  heels.  To'  Kaya  was  too  lame  to  attempt 
to  overtake  him,  but  he  shouted  after  him  in  derision : 

"He,  Pa!  Did  the  men  of  old  bid  you  to  fly  from 
your  enemies.*" 

Tiingku  Pa  halted  at  a  safe  distance  and  turned 
round. 

"T  am  only  armed  with  a  kris  and  have  no  spear  as 
you  have,"  he  said. 

"This  house  is  yours,"  returned  To'  Kaya.  *'If 
you  want  weapons,  enter  it  and  fetch  as  many  as  you 
can  carry  while  T  await  your  return." 

But  Tiingku  Pa  had  had  enough,  and  turning, 
continued  his  flight  pursued  by  the  laughter  and  the 
jeers  of  To'  Kaya. 


Amok  of  dato'  kaya  bIji  d£rja  335 

"Is  this,  Llieii,  the  manner  in  which  tlie  men  of  the 
rising  generation  do  baltle  with  their  enemies?"  he 
shouted. 

Finding  that  arguments  and  taunts  were  alike 
powerless  to  persuade  Tungku  Pa  to  put  up  a  fight, 
To'  Kaya  went  on  down  the  i)ath  past  the  spot  where 
Ma'  Chik's  body  still  lay  until  he  came  to  the  pool 
of  blood  wdiich  marked  the  place  where  Tungku 
Long  Pendekar  had  come  by  his  death.  Standing 
there,  he  called  to  Tiingku  ttam,  who  was  within  the 
house. 

"O  Tungku!"  he  cried.  "Be  pleased  to  come  forth 
if  you  desire  to  avenge  the  death  of  your  cousin, 
Tungku  Long.  Now  is  the  appropriate  time,  for  your 
servant  hath  still  some  little  life  left  in  him.  Later 
you  will  not  be  able  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  your 
servant  for  he  will  be  dead.  Condescend,  therefore, 
to  come  forth  and  do  battle  with  your  servant." 

But  Tungku  Itam  remained  in  hiding  and  main- 
tained a  prudent  silence,  and  To'  Kaya,  finding  that 
his  challenge  was  ignored,  cried  once  more: 

"If  you  will  not  take  vengeance  for  the  death  of 
your  cousin,  the  fault  is  none  of  your  servant's," 
and  so  saying  lie  ])assed  upon  his  way. 

The  dawn  was  l)reaking  wanly  and  the  cool  land 
breeze  was  making  a  little  stir  In  the  fronds  of  the 
palm  trees  as  ^I'o'  Kaya  })assed  up  the  lane  and 
through  the  deserted  com])ounds  tlie  owners  of  which 
had  fled  In  fear.  Present!}'  he  came  out  on  to  the 
open  space  before  the  mosc[ue,  and  here  souk^  four 
hundnMl   men   fully  armed   with   s|)ears  and   daggers 


336  AMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJI  D£RJA 

had  assembled.  It  was  light  enough  for  To'  Kaya 
to  be  able  to  mark  the  terror  in  their  eyes.  He 
grinned  at  them  evilly,  smacking  his  lips.  Men  who 
are  bent  upon  keeping  alive,  if  possible,  are  always  at 
an  enormous  disadvantage  in  the  presence  of  one 
who  is  resolutely  seeking  death. 

"This  is  indeed  good,"  shouted  To'  Kaya.  "Now 
at  last  shall  I  have  my  fill  of  stabbing  and  fighting," 
and  thereupon  he  made  a  shambling,  limping  charge 
at  the  crowd,  which  wavered,  broke,  and  fled  in  every 
direction,  the  majority  of  the  fugitives  pouring  helter- 
skelter  into  Tiinku  Ngah's  compound  and  closing  the 
gate  in  the  high  bamboo  fence  behind  them. 

One  of  the  hindermost  was  a  man  named  Genih, 
and  to  him  To'  Kaya  shouted: 

"O  Genih!  It  profits  the  raja  little  that  he  gives 
you  and  such  as  you  food  both  morning  and  evening. 
You  are  indeed  bitter  cowards.  If  you  all  fear  me  so 
greatly,  go  and  seek  some  guns  so  that  you  may  be 
able  to  kill  me  from  afar  off." 

Genih,  who  had  failed  to  get  into  Tiingku  Ngah's 
compound,  took  To'  Kfiya's  advice  and  running  to 
the  Sultan's  bdlai  or  hall  of  state,  he  cried  to  Tiingku 
Musa,  who  was  at  once  the  uncle  and  principal  ad- 
viser of  the  king,  "Your  servant.  To'  Kaya,  bids  us 
bring  guns  wherewith  to  slay  him." 

Now,  at  this  moment,  all  was  not  well  in  the  hdlai 
of  the  Sultan.  When  first  the  news  of  the  amok 
had  been  noised  abroad  all  the  rajas  and  chiefs  had 
assembled  at  the  palace,  and  it  had  been  unanimously 
decided  tliiil  no  action  could  be  taken  until  the  day 


Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  derja  337 

broke.  At  dawn,  however,  it  was  found  that  all  the 
chiefs,  with  the  exception  of  Tiingku  Panglinui, 
Dato'  Kaya  Duyong,  Pangliina  Dalani,  Imam  Prang 
Losong,  and  Pahlawan  had  sneaked  away  under  cover 
of  the  darkness.  Tiingku  Miisa  was  there  to  act  as 
the  mouthpiece  of  the  Sultan,  but  he  was  quite  as 
unhappy  as  any  of  his  colleagues. 

At  last  the  Sultan  said: 

"Well,  the  day  has  dawned.  Why  does  no  man  go 
forth  to  kill  the  Dato'  Kaya  Biji  Derja?" 

Tiingku  Musa  turned  upon  Tiingku  Panglima. 

"Go  you  and  slay  him,"  he  said. 

"Wliy  do  you  not  go  yourself  or  send  Pahlawan?" 
replied  Tiingku  Panglima. 

Pahlawan  protested. 

"Your  servant  is  not  the  only  chief  in  Trengganu," 
lie  said.  "Many  eat  the  king's  mutton  in  the  king's 
bdlai.  Why,  then,  should  your  servant  alone  be 
called  upon  to  do  this  thing?" 

Tiingku  Musa  said  to  Imam  Prang  Losong,  who  was 
by  way  of  being  the  professional  leader  of  the  Sultan's 
warriors : 

"Go  you,  then,  and  slay  the  Dato'  Kaya." 

"I  cannot  go,"  said  the  Imam  Prang,  "for  I  am 
not  suitably  attired.  I  am  not  clad  in  trousers,  and 
lacking  that  garment,  in  the  activity  of  combat  my 
clothes  may  become  deranged  anil  a  great  shame  be 
thereby  ]>ut  uj)on  ;^'our  servant." 

"I  will  lend  you  some  trousers,"  said  Tiingku 
Milsa,  who  was  a  man  of  resource. 

"But  even  then  I  cannot  go,"  said  llic  warrior. 


338  Amok  of  dAto'  kAya  bIji  uerja 

"for  my  mother  is  sick  and  I  must  needs  return  to 
tend  her." 

Then  the  Sultan  stood  upon  his  feet  and  stamped. 

"What  manner  of  warrior  is  this?"  he  cried  in- 
dignantly, pointing  at  Tiingku  Panglima.  "He  is  a 
warrior  fasliioned  from  offal!" 

Thus  publicly  admonished,  Tungku  Pangltma  do- 
tailed  about  a  hundred  of  his  followers  to  go  and  kill 
To'  Kaya;  but  after  they  had  gone  some  fifty  yards 
in  the  direction  of  the  mosque  they  returned  to  hira 
on  some  trivial  pretext  and  though  he  bade  them  g3 
many  times,  they  repeated  this  performance  again  and 
again. 

Suddenly  old  Tungku  Dalam  came  hurrying  into 
the  palace  yard,  very  much  out  of  breath,  for  he  was 
of  a  full  habit  of  body,  binding  on  his  kris  as  he  ran. 

"What  is  this  that  men  are  saying  concerning  To' 
Kaya  Biji  Derja  running  cimok  in  the  palace.^  Where 
is  he.''"  he  cried. 

"At  the  mosque,"  twenty  voices  replied. 

"  Ya  Allah!"  exclaimed  Tungku  Dalam  in  a  tone  of 
relief,  mopping  the  sweat  from  his  forehead.  "Men 
said  he  was  in  the  palace.  Well,  what  steps  are  you 
taking  to  slay  him?" 

The  assembled  chiefs  maintained  a  shamed  silence 
and  old  Tiingku  Dalam  cursing  them  roundly, 
selected  forty  men  with  guns,  and  leading  them  him- 
self, passed  out  at  the  back  of  the  royal  enclosure 
to  the  house  of  Tungku  Chik  Paya,  which  is  situated 
close  to  the  mosque. 

Oil  the  low  Willi  which  surrounds  the  latter  build- 


AMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BIJI  DERJA  .'J3n 

ing  To'  Kaya  was  seated,  and  when  he  saw  Tungku 
Drdam  approaching  he  cried  out  joyously : 

"Welcome!  Welcome!  Your  servant  has  de- 
sired the  long  night  through  to  fight  with  one  who  is 
of  noble  birth.  Come,  therefore,  and  let  us  see 
which  of  us  twain  is  the  more  skillful  with  his  wea- 
pons." 

At  this  Mat,  one  of  Tungku  Drdam's  men,  leaped 
forward  and  said,  "Suffer  your  servant  to  engage  him 
in  fight.  It  is  not  fitting,  Tungku,  that  you  should 
take  part  in  such  a  business." 

But  Tungku  Dalam  restrained  him. 

"Have  patience,"  he  said.  "He  is  a  dead  man. 
Why  should  we,  who  are  alive,  risk  death  or  hurt  at 
his  hands?" 

Then  he  ordered  a  volley  to  be  fired,  but  when  the 
smoke  cleared  away,  To'  Kaya  was  seen  to  be  still 
sitting  unharmed  ui)on  the  low  wall  surrounding  the 
mosque. 

A  second  volley  was  fired  with  a  like  result,  and 
then  To'  Kaya  cast  away  the  spear  he  was  holding 
in  his  hand,  crying,  "Perchance  this  spear  is  a  charm 
against  bullets.  Try  once  mor(^  and  I  pray  you  end 
this  business,  for  it  has  already  taken  over  long  in  the 
settling." 

A  third  volley  was  then  fired,  and  one  bullet  struck 
To'  Kaya  but  did  not  break  the  skin.  He  clapped 
his  hand  upon  the  j)lace  and  leaped  to  his  feet  crying, 
'Hai,  but  that  hurts  me!  I  will  repay  you  for  that!" 
and  as  he  rushed  forward,  the  crowd  surged  back 
before    him      With    difficulty    Tungku    Diilam    sue- 


340  AMOK  OF  DATO'  KAYA  BUI  D£RJA 

ceeded  in  rallying  his  people  and  inducing  them  to 
fire  a  fourth  volley.  This  time,  however,  one  bullet 
took  effect,  passing  in  under  one  armpit  and  out  under 
the  other.  To'  Kaya  staggered  back  to  the  wall  and 
sank  upon  it,  rocking  his  body  to  and  fro.  A  fifth 
and  final  volley  rang  out  and  a  bullet  passing  through 
his  head,  To'  Kaya  fell  prone  upon  his  face. 

The  cowardly  crowd  pressed  forward,  but  fell  back 
again  in  confusion  for  the  whisper  spread  among 
them  that  To'  K^ya  was  feigning  death  in  order  to 
get  at  close  quarters  with  his  assailants.  At  length, 
however,  a  lad  named  Samat,  who  was  related  to  the 
deceased  Ma'  Chik,  summoned  up  enough  courage  to 
run  in  and  transfix  the  body  with  his  spear,  but  To' 
Kaya  was  already  dead. 

He  had  killed  his  wife,  Che'  long,  the  Kelantan 
man  Abdul  Rahman,  Pa'  Pek,  Ma'  Pek,  Tiingku 
Long  Pendekar,  Ma'  Chik,  Haji  Mill,  and  'Semail; 
and  he  had  wounded  his  baby  child,  his  mother-in- 
law,  Che'  Long's  daughter  Esah,  and  Saleh — in  all 
nine  killed  and  four  wounded.  Tliis  is  a  respectable 
butcher's  bill  for  any  single  individual,  and  he  had 
done  all  this  because  having  had  words  with  his  wife 
and  having  stabbed  her  in  the  heat  of  the  moment  he 
had  felt  that  it  would  be  an  unclean  thing  for  him  to 
continue  to  live  on  the  surface  of  a  comparatively 
clean  planet.  In  similar  circumstances  a  white  man 
might  possibly  have  committed  suicide,  which  would 
liave  occasioned  considerably  less  trouble;  but  that 
is  one  of  the  many  respects  in  which  a  wliite  man 
differs  from  a  IVIalav. 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

AT  KOTA  BHARU,  the  capital  of  Kelantan, 
l~\  some  thirty  years  ago,  the  Powers  of  Wicked- 
-^  -^  ness  in  the  High  Places  were  at  considerable 
pains  to  preserve  a  kind  of  cock-eyed,  limping,  knock- 
kneed,  shambling  morality  which  kept  more  or  less 
even  step  with  their  conception  of  the  eternal  fitness 
of  things.  To  this  end,  Yam  Tiian  Mulut  Merah, 
the  "Red  Mouthed  King,"  so  called  on  account  of 
his  insatiable  thirst  for  blood,  did  his  best  to  dis- 
courage theft;  and  in  pursuance  of  tliis  laudable 
desire  killed  during  his  reign  sufficient  men  and  wo- 
men to  have  repeopled  a  new  country  half  the  size  of 
his  own  kingdom.  Old  Nek  'Soh,  the  Dato'  Sri 
Paduka,  who  stood  by  and  witnessed  most  of  the 
killing,  used  openly  to  lament  in  my  time  that  all 
the  thieves  and  robbers  were  not  made  over  to  him 
instead  of  being  wasted  in  the  shambles.  It  was 
his  opinion  that,  with  so  considerable  a  following,  he 
might  have  set  up  a  new  dynasty  in  the  Peninsula 
and  still  have  had  enough  men  and  wonien  at  Ins 
disposal  to  make  it  possible  for  him  to  sell  a  batch  of 
them  now  and  then  if  ready  money  were  needed. 
Nek  'Soil  was  a  wise  old  num,  and  he  was  probably 
sure  of  his  facts;  but  though  his  influenee  with  his 
master,  the  Red  Mouthed  King,  was  great  in  most 

.'54  i 


342      A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

things,  he  was  never  able  to  induce  him  to  forego 
his  kilhngs  or  to  try  the  experiment.  So  the  king 
continued  to  slay  robbers,  thieves,  and  pilferers, 
never  pausing  to  discriminate  very  closely  between 
those  who  were  convicted  and  those  who  were  merely 
accused,  and  occasionally  extending  the  punishment 
to  their  relations  and  friends.  Nek  'Soh  silently 
bewailed  the  wholesale  waste  of  good  material  on 
utilitarian  rather  than  upon  humanitarian  grounds, 
and  the  bulk  of  the  population  thieved  and  robbed 
and  pilfered  as  persistently  and  gayly  as  ever,  for 
that  was  the  custom  of  the  country. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  Red  Mouthed  King's 
attempts  to  effect  a  reform  in  the  habits  of  his  people 
were  attended  by  no  very  encouraging  result,  and 
this  perhaps  is  why  he  confined  his  attention  to  an 
effort  designed  to  eradicate  a  single  vice  and  in  other 
directions  was  content  to  let  the  morality  of  Kelan- 
tan  take  care  of  itself.  After  many  years,  however, 
old  Mulut  Merah  died,  and  his  son  and  later  his 
grandson,  ruled  in  his  stead.  Nek  'Soh,  now  a  very 
old  man,  continued  to  have  a  hand  in  the  government 
of  the  country,  but  he  no  longer  occupied  the  position 
of  king's  principal  adviser.  This  post  was  held  by 
a  person  upon  whom  had  been  conferred  the  title  of 
Maha  Mentri,  which  means  "Great  Minister";  and 
as  he  was  young  and  energetic,  and  was,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  the  real  ruler  of  the  land,  he  presently 
launched  out  into  a  scheme  of  reform  which  was  des- 
tined, as  he  forecast  it,  to  work  a  revolution  in  the 
manners  and  customs  of  tlx'  t^ood  people  of  Kelaiitan. 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANA(iEH       ,'U;5 

Undeterred  by  the  knowledge  that  mutilation,  vio- 
lent death,  and  an  ingenious  system  of  tortures,  had 
proved  quite  powerless  to  cure  the  Kelantan  folks' 
innate  propensity  to  misappropriate  one  anotiier's 
property,  Maha  Mentri  conceived  the  bold  idea  of 
converting  the  entire  population,  on  a  sudden,  into 
fervent  and  fanatical  Muhammadans.  Now,  judged 
as  an  exponent  of  Islam,  your  average  Malayan  peas- 
ant is  wofully  slack  and  casual,  but  the  people  of 
Kelantan  are  the  dullest  and  least  fervent  ]\Ialays  in 
the  Peninsula.  No  more  unpromising  material  for 
a  religious  revival  could  be  found  in  any  part  of  Asia, 
and  any  attempt  to  make  such  folk  scrupulous  ob- 
servers of  the  Prophet's  law,  by  the  local  equivalent 
of  an  Act  of  Parliament,  was  foredoomed  to  failure 
from  the  outset.  Nothing  daunted,  however,  Maha 
Mentri  insisted  upon  all  men  attending  at  the  mosque 
on  Fridays,  for  the  recital  of  congregational  prayer, 
and  inculcated  the  breaking  of  tlie  heads  of  recal- 
citrant church-goers;  he  observed,  and  personally 
superintended  the  observance  of  fasts;  he  did  his 
best  to  prevent  the  use  of  silk  garments  by  any  save 
women,  and  this,  be  it  rememl)ered,  in  a  country 
which  is  famous  for  its  silk  fabrics;  lie  set  his  face 
against  cock-figliting,  ))ull-matclies,  ram-but  ting, 
human  prize-figlits,  hunting,  and  tlic  keeping  of 
dogs,  all  the  sports  of  the  well-to-do,  in  fact;  and 
while  he  pried  into  the  home  of  (^very  family  in  the 
capital,  with  the  laudable  object  of  ascertaining 
whether  its  inmates  pray(Ml  regularly  at  each  of  the 
five  hours  of  appointed  prayer,  he  dealt  an  even  more 


344       A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

severe  blow  to  the  happiness  of  the  bulk  of  the  popu- 
lation by  forbidding  the  performance  of  the  ma' long. 

The  ma'iong  are  heroic  plays  which  are  acted 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Peninsula 
by  troupes  of  strolling  players,  and  they  are  specially 
dear  to  the  natives  of  Kelantan.  They  are  bastard 
off -shoots  of  the  magnificent  spectacular  plays  which, 
to  this  day,  are  performed  in  the  palace  of  the  king 
of  Kambodia  at  Pnom  Phen.  These  in  their  turn 
had  their  origin  in  the  traditional  and  ceremonial 
dances  enacted  at  Angkor,  when  that  city  of  gigantic 
ruins  was  still  the  capital  of  a  great  Hindu  empire, 
which  extended  over  most  of  Burma,  Siam,  and  Indo- 
China,  and  was  established  and  ruled  for  several 
centuries  by  Brahmans  who  migrated  from  across 
the  Ganges.  Since  the  enslaved  population  rose 
In  revolt  against  the  twice-born  tyrants,  utterly 
destroying  them  and  reducing  their  city  to  ruins, 
the  plays  have  undergone  many  changes,  and  in  our 
time  the  clown,  who  plays  the  part  of  low  comedian, 
is  called  Bram  in  Kambodia.  In  the  Malayan 
ma'iong  he  reappears  as  Pran;  and  this  butt  of  the 
other  actors,  and  object  of  the  derision  of  the  spectii- 
tors,  derives  his  title  of  infamy  from  the  proudest 
caste  on  earth,  who  long  ago  at  Angkor  exacted  the 
worship  of  the  people,  and  by  their  oppression  of  them 
earned  a  hatred  of  which  this  grotesque  piece  of  spite 
is  the  last  surviving  manifestation. 

The  Malay  renderings  of  thest  plays  are  of  the 
most  primitive  character.  They  are  performed  in- 
side a  small  square  paddock,  enclosed  by  a  low  bam- 


A  MALAYAN  ACT0R-MAXAGP:R      ,'J45 

boo  railing,  but  otherwise  open  on  all  four  sides,  so 
as  to  afford  the  spectators  an  unobstructed  view  of 
all  that  goes  forward  within  the  enclosure.  A  palm- 
leaf  roof  protects  the  players  irom  the  sun  by  day 
and  from  the  heavy  dews  by  night;  and  whenever  a 
jyanggong  is  erected  upon  a  new  site,  the  pdwaug,  or 
medicine-man,  who  is  also  the  actor-manager  of  the 
troupe,  performs  certain  magic  rites  with  cheap  in- 
cense and  other  unsavoury  offering  to  the  spirits. 
This  he  does  in  order  to  enlist  the  assistant  of  the 
demons  of  the  earth  and  air,  and  of  all  local  deities, 
whom  he  entreats  to  watch  over  his  people  and  to 
guard  them  from  harm.  The  incantations  of  which 
he  makes  use  are  very  ancient,  and  it  is  possible  to 
trace  in  some  of  them  a  strong  Hindu  influence,  but 
for  the  rest,  the  whole  business  is  pure  devil  worship. 
First  he  calls  upon  Black  Awang,  King  of  the  Earth 
and  Air,  he  who  is  wont  to  wander  through  the  veins 
of  the  ground  and  to  take  his  rest  at  the  portals  of 
the  world.  Awang,  of  course,  is  one  of  the  common- 
est of  Malayan  proper  names,  and  here  it  is  obviously 
used  as  an  euphemism  substituted  for  a  word  which 
it  is  not  lawful  for  men  to  utter.  Next  the  pdwang 
calls  upon  the  Holy  Ones,  the  local  f lemons  of  the 
place,  and  finally  upon  his  grands! re,  Petera  Guru, 
the  Teacher  who  is  from  the  Beginning,  who  is 
incarnate  from  his  birth,  who  dwells  as  a  hermit 
in  the  recesses  of  the  moon,  and  practises  his  magic 
arts  in  the  womb  of  the  sun;  the  'iVacher  whose  coat 
is  wrought  of  green  beads,  whose  blood  is  white,  who 
hath  but  a  single  bone,  the  hairs  of  whose  body  stand 


346       A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

erect,  the  pores  of  whose  skin  are  adamant,  whose 
neck  is  black,  whose  tongue  is  fluent,  whose  spittle 
is  brine.  All  these  he  prays  to  guard  his  people,  and 
he  then  cries  to  them  to  fling  wide  the  gates  of  lust 
and  passion  together  with  the  gates  of  desire  and 
credulity,  and  the  portals  of  longing — "the  longing 
which  endureth  from  dawn  unto  dawn,  which  causeth 
food  to  cease  to  satisfy,  which  maketh  sleep  uneasy, 
which  remembering  maketh  memory  eternal,  which 
causeth  hearing  to  hear  and  sight  to  see." 

Such  shameless  trafficking  with  spirits,  which 
should  find  no  place  in  the  demonology  of  any  good 
Muhammadan,  was  quite  properly  regarded  as  an 
abomination  by  the  straitlaced  Maha  Mentri;  and 
not  content  with  prohibiting  the  performances  of 
the  ma'iong,  he  contrived  to  make  life  so  singularly 
unattractive  to  the  actors  and  actresses  that  many 
of  them  quitted  Kelantan  and  trooped  across  the 
jungle-clad  mountains  which  divide  that  state  from 
Pahang. 

Now,  no  matter  what  other  faults  are  to  be  at- 
tributed to  the  people  of  Pahang,  they  cannot  justly 
be  accused  of  bigotry  or  religious  fanaticism,  so  the 
players  were  welcomed  with  open  arms,  and  from 
end  to  end  of  the  land  the  throbbing  beat  of  tlie 
ma'iong  drums,  the  clanging  of  the  gongs,  the  scrap- 
ings of  the  ungainly  Malay  fiddles,  the  demented 
shrieks  and  wailings  of  the  serunai,  which  sounds 
like  bagpipes  in  distress,  the  nasal  chantings  of  the 
privia  donna,  and  the  roars  of  laughter  which  greet 
each  one  of  the  clown's  threadl)aro  jests,  made  merry 


A  .MxUAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER       847 

discord  in  tlie  villages.  The  gates  of  ail  the  least 
desirable  passions  were  flung  unwontedly  wide  on 
this  occasion,  for  hitherto  the  coming  of  a  ma' long 
had  been  a  verj'  unusual  e^^ent  in  the  interior,  and  a 
series  of  deplorable  incidents  were  presently  reported 
to  me  from  many  localities  in  the  Avide  Pahang  VaUey. 
While  the  ma' long  was  playing,  and  it  played  morn- 
ing, afternoon,  and  evening,  no  one  had  any  care 
for  the  crops;  the  women  left  their  babies  and  their 
cooking-pots,  and  the  elders  of  the  people  were  as 
stage-struck  as  the  boys  and  maidens.  When  the 
strolling  players  broke  up  their  panggong  and  moved 
forward  upon  their  way,  having  squeezed  a  village 
dry  of  its  last  copper  coins,  many  of  the  peasants 
followed  in  their  train,  cadging  for  food  and  lodging 
from  the  people  at  the  next  halting-place,  enduring 
every  sort  of  discomfort,  but  unable  to  tear  them- 
selves away  from  the  fascination  of  the  players  and 
the  contemplation  of  the  actresses.  •  Many  lawful 
wives  found  themselves  deserted  by  their  men,  and 
the  husbands  and  fathers  in  the  villages  had  to  keep 
a  sharp  eye  upon  the  doings  of  their  wives  and 
daughters  while  the  ma'iongiolk  were  in  the  neighbour- 
hood: for  when  once  tlie  drab  monotony  of  their 
lives  is  accidentally  disturbed,  the  morality  of  the 
^lalay  villagers,  which  ordinarily  is  far  better  than 
that  of  the  townsfolk,  goes  incontinently  to  pieces 
like  a  stranded  ship  in  the  trough  of  an  angry  sea. 
Of  all  the  actor-managers  who  were  then  roanu'ng 
u{)  and  down  Pahang,  none  was  so  successful  both 
with  the  playgoers  and  with  the  wouumi,  as  Sah'h  or 


348      A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

'Leh,  as  he  was  usually  called,  Malay  energy  rarely  be- 
ing equal  to  the  effort  of  articulating  more  than  a  frag- 
ment of  any  given  proper  name.  In  their  mouths  the 
dignified  Muhammad  becomes  the  plebeian  "Mat"; 
Sulehman — our  old  friend  Solomon — is  reduced  to 
plain  "'Man'*;  Abubakar  becomes  '"Bakar,"  Ishmail 
'"Mail,"  "Patimah,"  "'Tunah,"  or  even  '"Mah," 
and  so  on  with  all  the  sonorous  nomenclature  of  the 
Bible  and  the  ''Arabian  Nights."  This  is  worth  not- 
ing, because  it  is  typical  of  the  Malay's  propensity  to 
scamp  every  bit  of  labour,  no  matter  how  light  its 
character,  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  man  in  this  work-a- 
dav  world. 

Leh  was  a  man  of  many  accomplishments.  He 
played  the  fiddle  in  excruciating  wise  to  the  huge 
delight  of  all  the  Malays  who  heard  him;  he  had  a 
happy  knack  of  imitating  the  notes  of  birds  and  the 
cries  of  wild  and  domestic  animals,  and  as  the  jpran 
in  the  ma' long  he  was  genuinely  funny.  In  order 
to  act  this  part,  he  used  to  put  on  the  grotesque  mask 
which  is  assigned  to  it  by  tradition,  a  thing  of  a  vio- 
lent red  colour  with  a  piece  of  dirty  sheepskin  for  the 
hair,  and  prominent  forehead,  bulging  eyes,  and 
foolish,  inflated  cheeks,  which  together  give  to  the 
uncovered,  lower  part  of  its  wearer  the  appearance 
of  an  impossibly  receding  chin ;  and  thus  arrayed  he 
interwove  with  his  appointed  dialogue  a  succession 
of  pungent  and  frequently  unprintable  topical  jokes, 
which  he  improvised  with  an  astounding  facility. 
Above  all  he  was  a  skilled  rhapsodist,  and  with  that 
mellow  voice  of  his  would  sing  the  wonderful  story 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER       349 

of  Awang  Lotong — the  Monkey  Prince  which  is  a 
bastard,  local  version  of  the  Ramayana — until  the 
cocks  were  crowing  to  a  yellow  dawn.  He  travelled 
with  me  on  one  occasion  for  a  fortnight  and  I  had 
the  whole  of  this  folktale  written  down  from  his 
dictation.  When  completed  it  covered  sixty  pages 
of  foolscap  of  fine  Arabic  manuscript,  which  com- 
presses a  great  many  words  into  a  surprising  small 
space;  yet  Leh,  who  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
knew  every  line  of  it  by  heart  and  could  be  turned 
on  at  any  point,  invariably  continuing  the  story  in 
precisely  the  same  words.  He  hiid  learned  it  from 
an  old  man  in  Kelantan,  who  in  his  day  wa.s  reputed 
to  be  the  last  surviving  bard  to  whom  tlie  whole 
of  the  tale  was  known.  It  was  one  of  the  most  j)lain- 
spoken  pieces  of  literature  ever  committed  to  writing, 
abounded  with  archaic  phraseology,  and  the  corrupt 
Hinduism  to  be  traced  in  it  lent  it  a  very  special 
interest.  In  due  course,  I  sent  the  manuscript  with 
a  translation  and  elaborate  notes  to  the  Straits 
Branch  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  by  which  learned 
body  the  whole  thing  was  presently  lost  with  the 
usual  promptitude  and  despatch. 

It  was  always  a  marvel  to  me  that  Leh  escaped 
having  some  angry  man's  knife  driven  into  his  body 
during  his  wanderings  through  Pahang,  for  the  Malays 
of  that  state  were  accustomed  to  discourage  too  suc- 
cessful lovers  by  little  attentions  of  the  kind,  iuid 
l^h  was  adored  by  the  women  both  high  and  low, 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  country. 
Whether  he  owed  his  surs'ival  to  cunning  or  to  sheer 


350       A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

luck,  I  do  not  know;  but  he  certainly  lived  to  return 
to  Kelantan  after  an  absence  of  about  a  couple  of 
vears. 

This  was  rendered  possible  for  the  ma'iong  people 
by  the  sudden  and  violent  death  of  the  Maha  Mentri. 
That  great  and  good  man — the  self-appointed  cham- 
pion of  Muhammadanism  in  its  strictest  forms,  the 
enforcer  of  public  and  private  prayer,  the  orderer  of 
fasts  for  the  mortification  of  the  erring  flesh — had  one 
little  weakness  that  marred  the  purity  and  the  con- 
sistency of  his  character.  He  was  so  scrupulous  that 
he  would  not  suffer  himself  to  be  photographed  when 
a  view  of  Kota  Bharu,  in  which  several  hundreds  of 
j)eoplc  figured,  was  being  taken,  smce  he  held  that 
the  making  of  pictures  was  contrary  to  the  Prophet's 
ordinances.  In  the  name  of  religion,  he  had  con- 
trived to  make  his  neighbours'  lives  as  Httle  worth 
living  as  possible;  but  all  the  while  he  was  aggres- 
sively attentive  to  an  increasingly  large  number  of 
the  said  neighbours'  wives.  Meticulous  regard  for 
the  letter  of  the  law,  combined  with  an  ostentatious 
disregard  for  its  spirit,  is  only  to  be  found  in  its  full 
perfection  in  Asiatic  lands,  but  the  Maha  INIentri 
dovetailed  the  incompatabilities  together  with  an  un- 
precHHleated  persistence  and  sliamelessness. 

The  mild  folk  of  Kelantan  bore  with  him  and  with 
his  amiable  peculiarities  for  a  considerable  time,  and 
they  might  perhaps  have  endured  them  even  longer 
had  it  not  been  that  his  zeal  for  religion  was  pushed,  in 
directions  that  were  not  distasteful  to  him  person- 
ally, to  extremes  which  rendered  life  a  very  weari- 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER      351 

some  ordeal.  Upon  a  certain  evening,  therefore, 
it  befell  that  the  Maha  Mentri  was  shot  through  the 
flooring  while  he  lay  abed  in  another  man's  house  by 
the  aggrieved  owner  thereof  ably  and  actively  as- 
sisted by  two  other  injured  husbands,  who  were 
quite  convinced  that  there  was  not  room  enough  for 
the  Maha  Mentri  and  themselves  upon  the  surface 
of  the  same  planet. 

Everybody  knew  the  identity  of  the  Maha  Men- 
tri's  executioners,  and  the  king,  who  was  fond  of  his 
minister,  would  dearly  have  liked  to  punish  them 
with  a  lingering  death.  They  chanced,  however, 
to  be  under  the  protection  of  a  yoimg  jjrince  with 
whom,  for  political  reasons,  the  king  could  not 
afford  to  precipitate  a  quarrel;  so  he  and  his  advisers 
professed  to  be  lost  in  speculations  as  to  who  could 
have  been  so  imnumnerly  as  to  shoot  the  pious  Maha 
Mentri  in  three  several  places  and  at  that  the  matter 
rested  in  spite  of  the  clamorous  protests  of  the  dead 
man's  relatives. 

Very  soon  the  glad  tidings  of  the  Maha  Mentri's 
death  reached  Pahang,  and  the  ma'iong  people 
packed  their  gear  and  started  back  for  their  own 
country,  leaving  many  men  and  women  lamenting, 
and  a  set  of  utterly  demoralized  ^'illages  behind  them. 

Leli  went  back  by  sea  Avitli  half  a  score  of  broken 
hearts  in  his  wallet ;  and  soon  after  his  arrival  he  was 
appointed  to  the  post  of  court  minstrel  and  warden 
of  the  royal  dancing  girls.  For  the  Kelantan  to 
which  he  had  returned  was  a  very  different  place 
from  the  land  he  had  (|iiilte(l  when  he  slarted  out 


352      A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

for  Pahang.  As  soon  as  the  worthy  Maha  Mentri 
had  been  laid  in  his  grave,  the  reaction  which  always 
follows  a  paroxysm  of  religiosity  set  in  with  full 
force,  and  Kelantan  became  forthwith  a  pleasant 
land  for  unregenerate  folk  to  live  in.  The  five  hours 
of  appointed  prayer  were  suffered  to  slip  by  unre- 
garded of  the  people;  no  man  troubled  himself  to 
fast  more  than  his  stomach  thought  fitting;  and  the 
music  of  the  ma'iong  broke  out  anew,  flinging  wide 
the  gates  of  all  the  unmentionable  passions. 

In  this  new  and  joyful  Kelantan,  Leh  found  him- 
self very  much  in  his  element.  His  wit  and  his 
many  accomplishments  caused  the  old  pillar  dollars, 
which  in  those  days  were  the  standard  currency  of 
the  country,  to  come  rolling  in,  and  he  was  thus 
able  to  go  forth  among  his  fellows  lavishly  clad  from 
the  waist  downward  in  a  profusion  of  gaudy  silk 
sarongs  and  sashes,  such  as  the  Kelantan  folk  affect. 
From  the  belt  upward  he  went  naked,  of  course;  for 
unlike  most  Malays  the  people  of  this  state  never 
wore  coats,  though  these  exotic  garments  were  oc- 
casionally used  by  the  rdjcis  and  nobles  at  court 
functions  when  strangers  chanced  to  be  present. 

It  was  never  Leh's  habit  to  keep  all  his  good  for- 
tune to  himself,  and  not  only  a  select  few  of  the  king's 
dancing  girls,  ])ut  a  goodly  troop  of  other  dames  and 
maidens — who  should  rightly  have  been  occupied 
exclusively  with  their  lawful  lords  and  masters — 
came  in  for  a  share  of  the  spoil.  Given  a  well-set-up 
figure,  a  handsome  face,  gay  apparel,  a  witty  tongue 
and  a  superfluity  of  ready  money,  and  a  far  less 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER      ryr>^ 

clever  and  engaging  fellow  than  Lch,  the  strolling 
player  might  confidently  reckon  upon  a  brilliant 
series  of  successes  at  the  court  of  a  Malayan  king. 
He  came  upon  the  scene,  moreover,  at  a  time  when 
the  soul  of  the  Kelantan  people  was  stretching  itself 
luxuriously  after  its  release  from  the  moral  bonds 
with  which  the  ]\Iaha  ]Mentri  had  fettered  it,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  the  best  favoured,  half  of  the 
female  population  of  Kota  Bharu,  a  town  famous  for 
the  beauty  of  its  women,  were,  to  use  the  INIalay 
phrase,  "mad"  for  Leh.  The  natives  of  the  Penin- 
sula, who  are  philosophers  in  their  own  way,  recog- 
nize that  love,  when  it  wins  a  fair  grip  upon  man  or 
woman,  is  as  much  a  disease  of  the  mind  as  any  other 
form  of  insanity;  and  as  it  is  more  connnon  than  most 
other  forms  of  mania,  they  speak  of  it  as  "the  mad- 
ness" par  excellence. 

Such  a  state  of  things,  however,  caused  much  dis- 
satisfaction to  the  rest  of  the  male  community,  and 
the  number  of  the  malcontents  received  constant 
recruits  as  the  madness  spread  among  the  women. 
The  latter,  as  time  went  on,  became  more  and  more 
shameless  and  reckless,  and  threw  off  all  disguise,  for 
they  were  too  numerous  for  any  unorganizetl  system 
of  wife  and  daughter  beating  effectively  to  cope  with 
the  trouble.  When  they  were  not  occupied  in  way- 
laying Leh  in  sending  him  notes  or  |)resents,  in  making 
assignations  with  him,  or  in  ogling  him  as  he  swag- 
gered past  their  dwellings,  cocking  a  concjuering  eye 
through  the  doorways,  the  ladies  of  Kota  Bharu  were 
now  frequently  engaged   in   shrill    and   hard-fought 


354      A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER 

battle  one  with  another.  Each  woman  was  wildlj 
jealous  of  all  her  fellows,  mother  suspecting  daughter, 
and  daughter  accusing  mother  of  receiving  more  than 
her  fair  share  of  Leh's  generous  and  widely  scat- 
tered attentions.  Many  were  the  scratches  scored  on 
nose  and  countenance,  long  and  thick  the  tussocks 
of  hair  reft  from  one  another  by  the  combatants, 
terrible  and  extravagant  the  damage  done  to  one  an- 
other's rival  wardrobes  by  the  infuriated  ladies;  while 
the  men  beholding  these  impossible  goings-on  with 
horror  and  dismay,  said  among  themselves  that  Leh, 
the  warden  of  the  king's  dancing  girls  must  die. 

He  was  a  hefty  fellow  and  known  to  be  a  good  man 
of  his  hands,  wherefore,  badly  as  they  all  felt  about 
him,  no  one  saw  his  way  to  engage  him  in  single 
combat,  though  there  were  half  a  hundred  very  angry 
husbands  and  lovers  who  were  anxious  to  take  an 
active  part  in  assassinating  him.  At  last  a  commit- 
tee of  three  specially  aggrieved  citizens  was  appointed 
by  general  consent  to  act  for  the  rest,  and  they  lay  in 
wait  for  Leh  during  several  successive  evenings,  hoping 
to  catch  him  returning  alone  from  the  ma' long  shed. 

It  was  on  the  third  night  of  their  vigil  that  their 
chance  came.  The  moon  was  near  the  full,  and  the 
heavy  shadows  cast  by  the  palm  fronds  lay  across 
the  ground  like  solid  objects.  The  footpath,  which 
leads  from  the  main  thoroughfare  into  the  villages 
around  Kota  Bharu,  branches  off  some  twenty 
yards  from  the  spot  where  the  watchers  lay  concealed. 
The  committee  of  three  sat  huddled  up  just  within 
the  clustering  compounds,  hidden  from  sight  by  the 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MAxNAGER      355 

patch  of  shadow  cast  upon  the  bare  earth  by  a  neigh- 
bouring house,  and  the  vivid  moonhght  revealed 
cvety  detail  of  the  scene  around  them — the  yellow, 
sun-baked  soil,  the  green  of  the  smooth  banana 
leaves,  even  the  red  of  a  cluster  of  ramhut-an  fruit 
on  a  tree  near  at  hand. 

Presently  the  sound  of  voices  talking  and  laughing 
light-heartedly  came  to  the  ears  of  the  listening 
men^  and  as  the  speakers  drew  nearer  the  committee 
of  three  were  able  to  distinguish  Leh's  mellow  tones. 
At  the  parting  of  the  ways  he  turned  off  by  himself 
along  the  footpath,  his  companions  keeping  on  to  the 
main  road.  lich  took  leave  of  them  with  a  farewell 
jest  or  two,  which  sent  the  others  laughing  upon 
their  way,  and  then  he  strolled  slowly  along  the  foot- 
path humming  the  catch  of  a  song  under  his  breath. 
The  three  in  the  shadow  of  the  house  could  see 
the  colour  of  the  gaudy  cloths  wound  about  their 
enemy's  waist,  the  fantastic  peak  into  which  his 
handkerchief  was  twisted,  the  glint  of  the  polished 
kemiining  wood  and  the  gold  settings  of  his  dagger 
hilt,  and  the  long,  broad-bladed  spear  that  he  carried 
in  his  right  hand.  They  watched  him  drawing 
nearer  to  them,  still  humming  a  song,  and  with  a  half 
smile  upon  his  face.  rhey  allowed  him  to  come 
abreast  of  them,  to  stroll  past  them,  still  liususpicious 
of  danger;  but  no  pity  for  him  moved  them.  All  had 
been  injured  in  too  deadly  a  fashion  by  this  callous, 
light-hearted  libertine,  who  now  went  to  the  death  he 
knew  not  of  with  a  smile  on  his  face  and  the  stave  of  a 
song  upon  liis  ]ij)s. 


356        A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-IVIANAGER 

As  soon  as  he  had  passed  them  the  committee  of 
three  stepped  noiselessly  out  of  the  shadow,  poised 
their  spears  aloft,  and  plunged  them  into  Leh's 
naked  brown  back.  As  they  struck  they  rent  the 
silence  of  the  night  with  their  sorak,  a  war-cry  into 
which  they  compressed  all  the  pent-up  hatred  of 
their  victim  which  had  been  devouring  their  hearts 
for  months.  Leh,  giving  vent  to  a  thick,  choking 
cough,  fell  upon  his  face,  and  a  few  more  vigorous 
spear  thrusts  at  his  prostrate  body  completed  the 
work  which  the  committee  of  three  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  perform. 

They  left  the  bod}'  of  Leh,  the  strolling  player, 
lying  where  it  had  fallen,  face  downward  in  the  dust 
of  the  footpath;  and  though  the  king  did  all  that  lay 
in  his  power  to  secure  the  detection  of  the  murderers, 
and  though  his  efforts  were  seconded  by  half  the 
women  in  the  town,  the  men  who  had  planned  the 
deed  kept  their  secret  well,  so  no  punishment  could 
be  inflicted  upon  those  who  had  actually  effected  the 
assassination  of  the  warden  of  the  king's  dancing 
girls. 

In  the  eyes  of  ^Malayan  justice,  however,  if  you  are 
unable  to  ])unisli  tlie  guilty,  it  is  better  to  come  down 
heavily  upon  the  innoct'nt  than  to  let  everybody  get 
off  scot  free.  The  house  near  which  the  body  of  Leh 
had  been  found  liai)i)ened  to  be  tenanted  by  an  old 
crone,  her  widowed  daughter,  and  three  children  of 
lender  age.  That  they  were  not  concerned  in  the 
inurdcM-  was  obvious;  but  none  the  less  their  abode 
was  taken  as  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  one  hundred 


A  MALAYAN  ACTOR-MANAGER        357 

fathom'  radius  and  all  whose  houses  chanced  to  lie 
within  its  circumference,  whether  men  or  women 
young  or  old,  whole  or  bedridden,  mothers  great  with 
child  or  babies  at  the  breast,  were  indifferently  fined 
the  sum  of  three  dollars  each,  a  large  sum  for  a 
Malayan  villager  of  those  days  to  be  called  u])on  to 
pay,  and  producing,  from  the  king's  point  of  view,  a 
refreshingly  big  total,  when  all  heads  had  been 
counted,  for  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Kota  Bharu  the 
people  herd  together  as  closely  as  kine  in  a  byre. 

This  system  of  wholesale  mulcting  was  recognized 
in  Kelantan  as  having  several  advantages  attaching 
to  it.  In  the<  first  place,  it  did  something  to  enhance 
the  revenues  of  the  king,  which  was  a  matter  of  mo- 
ment; and  for  the  humbler  folk,  if  a  man  chanced  to 
have  a  quarrel  with  a  neighbour,  witli  whom  he  was 
otherwise  unable  to  get  even,  he  could  punish  him 
by  the  simple  process  of  leaving  a  corpse  at  his  front 
door.  In  a  land  where  human  life  was  as  cheap  as  it 
used  to  be  in  Kelantan,  this  was  not  a  difficult  matter 
to  arrange,  and  if  the  corpse  chanced  to  be  that  of 
yet  another  enemy,  two  birds,  so  to  speak,  could  be 
killed  with  a  single  stone.     Whicli  is  ecouonu'cak 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

OLD  Tukang  Burok,  the  fashioner  of  wooden 
dagger  hilts  and  sheaths,  sat  cross-legged  on 
the  narrow  veranda  of  his  hut,  which,  perched 
upon  the  high  bank,  overlooked  the  Parit  River. 
I  squatted,  smoking,  at  his  side,  watching  him  at 
his  work,  and  luring  him  on  to  talk  of  the  days  of 
long  ago. 

Forty  feet  below  us  the  red,  peat-stained  waters  of 
the  Parit,  banked  back  by  the  tide  now  flowing  up 
the  Pahang  River  from  the  sea,  crawled  lazily  toward 
their  source.  The  thatched  roofs  of  more  than  a 
score  of  rafts  laj^  under  our  feet,  so  that  anything 
falling  off  the  Tukang's  veranda  would  drop  plump 
upon  the  nearest  of  them.  Nuzzling  one  another, 
and  rubbing  sides  with  a  constant  creaking,  twice 
as  many  large  native  boats  were  moored.  Each  of 
them  was  furnished  with  a  substantial  deck-house, 
high  enough  to  accommodate  a  seated  man,  walled 
with  wood  and  ])rotected  by  a  strong  roof  of  kdjang,'^ 
which  rose  in  a  graceful  curve  toward  the  stern  and 
supported  the  mcigim,  or  steersman's  perch,  which 

*Kajang — The  name  given  to  mats  made  from  the  dried  and  prepared  fronds 
of  the  mingkuang  palm,  sown  together  with  rattan.  They  are  yellow  in  colour, 
and  have  a  glazed  surface  which  renders  them  water-proof.  They  are  used  for 
roofing  boats  and  temporary  shelters,  and  serve  in  the  Peninsula  many  of  the 
purposes  to  which  in  Europe  tarpaulin  is  put 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY  359 

was  similarly  roofed.  The  punting  platforms,  which 
occupied  rather  more  than  a  third  of  the  available 
deck  space,  were  also  covered  in  with  temporary 
Mjang  roofs,  and  from  boats  and  rafts  alike  a  thin 
smoke  was  slowly  rising,  for  numbers  of  Malays  of 
both  sexes  and  all  ages  were  living  more  or  less  per- 
manently aboard  them.  The  red  waters  of  the 
Parit  possessed  some  property  inimical  to  the  borers 
which  destroyed  the  bottoms  of  craft  left  to  ride  at 
anchor  in  the  lower  reaches  of  the  Pahang;  wherefore 
this  narrow  stream  formed  the  most  popular  mooring- 
place  in  the  vicinity  of  the  capital. 

A  narrow  fairway  opened  between  the  boats  and 
rafts,  and  up  and  down  this  there  passed  two  broken 
threads  of  traffic,  composed  of  tiny  dug-outs,  shoot- 
ing swiftly  in  and  out  amid  the  numerous  obstruc- 
tions. 

The  bright  colours  of  the  Malay's  garments  made 
little  splashes  of  red  or  green  or  yellow  against  the 
tawny  waters  of  the  river,  and  the  dusty  mat  roof- 
ings of  rafts  and  boats.  The  flickering  fronds  of  the 
cocoanut,  sugar,  betel,  and  sago  palms,  and  the 
spreading  boughs  of  fruit  trees  of  numy  varieties — 
dividing  among  them  almost  every  conceivable 
shade  of  green — stretched  forth  from  either  bank 
friendly  hands  that  nearly  met  above  the  ruddy 
waters  of  the  stream,  upon  which  th(\v  cast  a  sun- 
flecked,  shifting  shadow,  infinitely  refreshing  to  tiie 
eye.  Above,  seen  through  the  mass  of  fronds  and 
boughs  and  foliage,  the  cloudless  ^Malayan  sky  arched 
over  us;  and  below  us  the  l)rowns  aud  yellows  of  the 


360  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

palm-leaf  roofings  of  boats  and  rafts  relieved  the  even 
redness  of  the  river. 

A  gentle  breeze,  which  had  sped  upstream  from  the 
sea,  playing  catch  as  catch  can  with  the  flowing  tide, 
sighed  dreamily  in  our  ears,  and  the  heavy  silence  was 
broken  only  by  the  monotonous  thud  of  a  paddle 
handle  against  a  boat's  wooden  side,  the  faint  bleat  of 
a  goat,  the  whisper  of  an  occasional  stronger  gust 
among  the  palm  fronds,  and  the  purring  sound  of  old 
Tiikang  Biirok's  polishing  tools. 

"' Tuan.  the  girl  was  very  fair,  and  the  madness 
came  upon  me,  and  I  loved  her." 

He  held  a  beautiful  piece  of  the  buttress  root  of  the 
kamuning  tree  between  the  toes  of  his  left  foot  and 
sat  working  at  its  surface  with  a  mass  of  rough 
cm  pel  as  leaves  held  in  both  hands.  Even  in  its  raw 
state  the  wonderful,  bold  markings  of  the  wood,  the 
great  curves  and  patches  of  black  against  their  yellow 
background,  were  plainly  to  be  discerned,  an  earnest 
of  the  magnificence  that  would  be  revealed  when 
finally  worked  up  and  varnished,  and  the  old  Tiikang 
handled  it  lovingly. 

"Your  servant  was  a  youth  in  those  so  long  ago 
days,  and  when  it  comes  to  the  young,  the  madness 
is  very  hot  and  burning  so  that  the  eyes  will  not 
sleep  and  the  belly  hath  no  desire  for  rice,  and  the 
liver  is  like  a  live  ember  in  the  breast.  And,  in 
truth,  old  age  changes  a  man  but  little.  Behold  the 
lusts  of  him  are  as  great  as  of  yore,  only  his  bones  are 
stiff  and  his  limbs  have  turned  traitor,  and  rage 
assails  his  liver  as  he  watches  the  maidens  i)laying  the 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY  ^CA 

game  of  eye  play  with  the  children  who  deem  them- 
selves men,  shooting  their  love-darts  before  his  very 
face,  without  modesty  or  shame,  and  never  so  much 
as  casting  a  glance  his  way,  unless  they  would  seek 
his  help  to  aid  them  in  their  intrigues  and  their 
stolen  meetings.  Ya  Allah!  It  is  very  evil,  Tuan, 
to  grow  old,  and  age  cometh  apace.  One  day  a  man 
is  young;  on  the  morrow — or  so  it  seems — youth  has 
fled;  a  little  more  and  the  eyes  wax  dim,  the  ears  are 
heavy  of  hearing,  and  only  the  liver  within  him  is 
unchanged  in  the  fury  of  unsatisfied  desire.  To  each 
one  of  us  age  is  a  surprise — so  quickly  have  the  years 
slipped  by,  so'short  the  time  that  has  sped,  so  gradual 
the  decay  of  the  body,  yet  so  much  swifter  is  it  than 
the  change  wrought  in  the  soul.  Some  there  be  who 
turn  their  thoughts  to  money  when  the  maidens 
will  hav^e  nought  of  them;  but  what  music  is  there  in 
the  clink-a-cliink  of  silver  pieces  compared  with  the 
love  words  whispered  in  the  darkness  by  the  lips  of  a 
girl,  and  what  beauty  abides  in  the  moon  face  of  a 
coin  by  the  side  of  the  pale  face  and  laughing  eyes 
of  a  maiden  ripe  for  love?  Ainhui!  It  is  very  hard 
to  grow  old.  I,  your  servant,  sit  here  all  the  day  long, 
fashioning  hris  hilts  and  dagger  sheaths  for  the 
youths,  that  they  may  make  a  brave  show  in  the  eyes 
of  their  lights  o'  love,  and  the  young  folk  pass  hither 
and  thither  in  my  sight,  and  I  mark  the  glint  in  their 
eyes  as  they  look  the  one  upon  the  other,  till  tears 
of  envy  well  up  in  these  old  eyes  of  mine,  for  well  I 
know  that  never  again  v/ill  a  girl  have  unbought  love 
to  ofT(M-  me. 


fi63  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

"Therefore,  Tuan,  I  sit  here  musing  over  the  days 
of  long  ago,  and  at  times  tears  gather  in  my  eyes, 
so  that  I  can  barely  see  the  wood  to  fashion  it. 
In  my  time,  after  the  wa\'  of  men,  I  have  loved 
and  been  loved  by  many  women;  but  now  that  I  am 
old,  ever  my  thoughts  and  my  longings  play  around 
the  girl  whom  I  held  dearer  and  more  desirable  than 
any,  she  who  in  an  evil  hour  was  lost  to  me  ere  yet  I 
had  known  her  for  my  wife.  In  truth,  Tuan,  my 
lot  hath  been  cheldka,  accursed  of  Fate. 

"Be  pleased  to  listen  to  my  story,  Tuan,  for  it  is 
very  strange.  Moreover,  though  my  affliction  was 
great,  men  made  a  mock  of  me  and  of  my  grief,  and 
fierided  me  by  reason  of  the  nature  of  my  calamity. 

"It  was  very  long  ago,  when  the  old  Bendaliara 
reigned  in  Pahang,  and  he  who  to-day  is  Sultan  was 
a  fugitive  from  his  wrath;  and  these  things  happened 
far  away  in  the  ulu — the  upper  reaches  of  the  river — 
in  those  distant  places  where,  the  streams  being 
slender,  men  regard  a  gallon  of  water  as  a  deep  pool, 
as  the  saying  goes.  I  was  wandering  through  the 
country,  trading,  for  I  had  incurred  guilt  owing  to  a 
trouble  that  arose  concerning  certain  love  passage.- 
between  myself  and  a  maiden  of  the  Bendaliara \s 
liousehold.  For  a  while,  therefore,  my  father 
deemed  it  prudent  that  I  should  quit  the  capital, 
where  the  king  was  very  wroth,  and  hide  for  a  space 
among  the  villages  on  the  banks  of  the  shallow, 
bustling  streams,  where  the  fofk  are  peaceful  and 
foolish,  and  ready  to  do  aught  that  they  are  bidden 
bv  a  man  belonging  to  the  Bendahara's  court,  since 


TUKANG  BUR(3K'S  STORY  DOP, 

they  hold  such  people  In  awe.  It  was  here  that  I 
beheld  the  maiden,  and  forthwith  the  madness  came 
upon  me  and  I  loved  her. 

"I  was  astonished  that  such  beauty  should  be 
found  in  so  remote  and  so  barbarous  a  place;  for  this 
girl  was  a  daughter  of  the  village  folk,  and  their 
women  are  commonly  coarse  and  big  and  ill- 
favoiu'ed,  with  their  hands  roughened  by  hard 
labour,  and  their  faces  tanned  black  as  the  bottom 
of  a  cooking-pot  by  exposure  to  the  sun,  since  they 
do  much  work  in  the  rice-fields.  But  this  girl,  Tiian, 
was  slender  and  delicate,  and  her  face  was  light  in 
coloiu',  and  \u\d  the  effulgence  of  the  moon  when  it 
is  at  the  full — in  truth  I  cannot  tell  to  you  the  wonder 
of  her  beauty.  Even  now,  when  I  am  old,  as  I  then 
was  young,  my  liver  waxes  hot  at  the  thought  of  her 
loveliness.  For  every  man  in  the  world  there  is  al- 
ways one  woman.  Allah  knoweth  that  our  loves  are 
many — so  many  that  no  man  may  retain  in  his  mind 
the  memory  of  all  of  them;  but  the  others  are  as 
shadows  while  one  is  the  realit}'.  So  it  hath  been 
with  me.  I  was  a  son  of  the  king's  city,  born  to 
mate  with  one  bred  gently  in  the  precincts  of  the 
court;  yet  at  the  sight  of  this  village  maiden,  my 
liver  was  crumbled  to  atoms,  and  I  knew  that  life 
held  nought  of  worth  to  me  until  I  could  have  her 
for  my  own.  Therefore,  I  sent  the  marriage  portion 
to  her  parents,  who  were  much  elaled  that  my 
father's  son  should  desire  to  wed  their  daughter. 

"A  day  was  set  apart  for  llu^  feast  of  the  Becom- 
iiiu'  One:  and  while  I  awaited   its  coiiiiiig.   1   was  de- 


364  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

voured  by  impatience  and  by  desire,  so  that  the 
days  were  hke  a  heavy  burden  strapped  upon  my 
back;  but  when  evening  fell,  I  used  to  creep  softly 
under  her  parents'  house,  and  peep  at  the  maiden 
through  the  interstices  of  the  floor  or  of  the  walls 
of  wattled  bamboo,  feasting  upon  her  loveliness, 
until  the  lights  were  extinguished,  and  I  went  away 
through  the  darkness  sadly  to  my  sleeping-mat.  I 
was  filled  with  a  madness  of  desire,  but  also  I  was 
happy,  since  I  knew  that  in  a  little  space  the  girl 
would  be  mine. 

"Now  it  was  upon  a  day,  about  a  Friday-span 
from  that  which  had  been  fixed  for  the  Becoming 
One,  that  calamity  came  upon  me,  utterly  destroy- 
ing me,  as  the  blight  withers  the  ripening  crop, 
making  the  ears  empty  things  and  vain.  It  was  in 
this  wise.  Listen,  Tuan,  and  then  say  was  ever 
trouble  like  unto  mine,  shame  comparable  to  the 
disgrace  that  was  put  upon  me,  or  sorrow  akin  to 
lliat  whereby  I  was  afflicted. 

"Hodoh  was  her  name.  Yes,  as  you  say,  she  was 
ill-named,  for  in  truth  she  was  beautiful,  not  ugly, 
as  the  word  implies — but  it  was  thus  that  her  folk 
had  called  her  when  she  was  little,  and  in  my  ears 
it  hath  lost  its  meaning  and  is  ever  the  dearest  of  all 
names. 

"It  chanced  that  Hodoh  was  alone  in  the  house, 
all  her  people  having  gone  forth  to  work  in  the  crops, 
leav^ing  her  because  the  hoiu*  of  her  wedding  was  so 
near  at  hand.  Thus  no  one  was  near  when  a  Siikai 
man,  one  Pa'  Ah-Gap,  the  Rhinoceros,  came  to  the 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY  305 

house  out  of  the  jungle,  praying  for  rice  and  for 
tobacco. 

"Now  these  Sakai,  as  you  know,  Tuan,  are  sorry 
animals,  and  our  people  do  not  suffer  them  to  enter 
our  houses,  for  they  are  of  an  evil  odour,  indescrib- 
ably dirty,  and  are,  moreover,  afflicted  with  skin 
diseases,  so  that  from  afar  off  they  appear  to  be  as 
white  as  a  fair  woman.  The  villagers  of  the  interior 
bear  little  love  to  the  Sakai,  though  they  do  much 
trade  with  them;  and  the  womenfolk  hold  them 
in  special  loathing  and  contempt,  and  cannot  by 
any  means  abide  their  proximity.  When,  therefore, 
Hodoh  beheld  the  face  of  Pa'Ali-Gap,  scarred  with 
blue  tattoo-marks,  with  hair  in  locks  like  the  top  of 
the  ragged  sago-palm  yonder,  and  his  body,  naked 
save  for  a  loin-clout,  gray  with  the  warm  wood  ashes 
in  which  he  had  slept,  and  with  skin  flaky  with 
lupus,  she  was  at  once  angered  and  afraid.  Ac- 
cordingly, seizing  a  parang,  she  threatened  him  with 
it  and  cried  aloud  bidding  him  be  gone,  cursing 
him  ior  a  filthy,  misbegotten,  mite-eaten  Sa,kai. 
Also  she  shouted  "Hinchit!  Hinchit!''  after  the  man- 
ner of  men  who  drive  away  a  dog. 

''Pa'  Ah-Gap  stood  gazing  at  her  in  silence,  rul)- 
bing  his  left  calf  slowly  against  his  right  shin  l)<)n<", 
and  scratching  his  scalp  with  one  clawlike  hand 
hidden  in  his  mop  of  hair;  and  he  gazed  insolently 
at  Hodoh,  who  abated  not  her  railing  and  heaped 
shame  upon  him  with  many  injurious  words.  Then, 
when  she  i)aused  breathless,  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and 
spoke. 


SGG  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

"  'Daughter  of  the  Gobs,'  he  said.  'Why  do 
you  thus  miscall  your  lover?  Behold,  in  a  little 
while,  you  shall  seek  me  in  the  forests,  imploring  me 
to  have  mercy  upon  you,  and  to  take  you  for  my 
own,  and  in  that  day,  if  I  have  a  mind  to  pleasure 
you,  you  shall  be  to  me  my  light  of  love.' 

"At  this,  Hodoh,  overcome  with  rage  and  shame, 
fled  into  the  house,  shutting  the  door  and-  barring 
it,  shrieking  abuse  and  threats  at  Pa'Ah-Gap,  who 
stood  without,  laughing  harshly,  as  the  frogs  croak 
when  the  monsoon  is  upon  us. 

"Then,  when  Hodoh  had  retreated  into  the  house. 
Pa'  Ah-Gap  began  to  patter  a  charm  in  the  Sakai 
tongue,  for  these  folk  are  greatly  skilled  in  magic, 
the  gods  of  the  ancient  days,  whom  we  have  aban- 
doned for  Allah  and  his  Prophet,  abiding  with  them, 
as  of  old  they  abode  with  us,  and  these  gods  are  the 
children  of  Iblis.  Also,  very  slowly,  he  picked  his 
bark  loin-clout  into  little  flecks  and  shreds  with  his 
fingers,  standing  mother-naked  in  the  open  space 
before  the  house;  for  these  people  are  shameless, 
like  animals.  Then  he  cast  seven  pieces  toward  the 
north  and  toward  the  south,  and  toward  the  place 
where  the  sim  cometh  to  life,  and  toward  the  place 
where  daily  the  sun  dieth.  Next  he  shouted  thrtn* 
times  in  a  very  bestial  fashion,  so  that  the  people 
in  the  rice-fields  heard  liim  and  fell  a  wondering  what 
creature  it  was  that  was  crying  from  the  jungle. 
Lastly  he  danced  sih^ntly  and  alone,  making  a  com- 
plete circuit  of  the  house.  All  these  doings  Hodoh 
observed,  as  she  peeped  at  him  through  the  chinks 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY  nC7 

of  the  bamboo  walls;  and  when  all  had  been  ac- 
complished, Pa'  Ah-Gap  slipped  into  the  forest,  mak- 
ing no  sound  in  his  going,  as  is  the  manner  of  the 
jungle  people.  But,  as  he  went,  at  each  step  he  let 
fall  little  pieces  of  his  unravelled  loin-clout,  leaving 
behind  him  a  trail  such  as  a  man  makes  who  chews 
sugarcane  as  he  walks. 

"At  the  hour  when  the  kine  go  down  to  water, 
the  parents  and  brethren  of  Hodoh  returned  from  the 
rice-field,  and  she  made  complaint  to  them  concern- 
ing the  evil  behaviour  of  Pa'  Ah-Gap,  the  Sakai; 
and  her  father  was  very  angry,  swearing  that  he 
would  punish  the  animal,  and  that  with  no  sparing 
hand,  for  thus  molesting  his  women  kind.  There 
was  much  talk  in  the  house  that  night,  and  I,  hiding 
beneath  the  flooring,  heard  all  that  passed;  and  I,  too, 
vowed  that  I  would  belabour  that  Sakai  for  daring 
thus  to  insult  the  woman  who  was  to  be  mine. 

"Now  it  chanced  that,  shortly  after  sleep  had 
come  to  all  within  the  house,  save  only  to  Hodoh, 
who  lay  wide-eyed  upon  her  mat,  that  a  mighty 
burning  came  upon  her,  consuming  her  body  as  it 
were  with  fire,  assailing  her  from  her  head  even  to 
her  feet,  and  making  of  her  heart  and  her  liver 
and  her  spleen  and  her  lungs  so  many  red-hot  embers, 
scorching  their  way  through  her  flesli;  and  at  the 
same  time,  speech  was  wholly  reft  from  her,  so  that 
she  could  by  no  means  cry  out  or  summon  any  one 
to  her  aid.  Forthwith,  moreover,  a  sudden  knowl- 
edge came  to  her  that  the  cool,  dark  jimgles  could 
alone  abate  the  agony  she  was  enduring;  wherefore. 


368  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

she  arose  softly,  and  making  no  sound,  stole  out  of 
the  house. 

"The  moon  was  at  the  full,  very  bright  and  vivid, 
so  that  the  girl  found  it  an  easy  matter  to  pick  her 
way  out  of  the  village  and  into  the  forest;  and  though 
our  people,  men  and  women  alike,  love  not  to  journey 
into  the  forest  alone,  even  during  the  daytime,  H6- 
doh  was  this  night  wholly  devoid  of  fear.  Also  she 
was  impelled  by  something  within  her  to  gather 
up  the  shreds  of  Pa'  Ah-Gap's  loin-clout,  pressirg 
them  to  her  lips  and  nose,  for  the  contact  with  the 
rough  bark  cloth  seemed  to  cool  a  little  the  burning 
pain  within  her.  Thus  she  followed  in  the  path 
which  Pa'  Ah-Gap,  the  Sakai,  had  trodden,  travelling 
on  and  on  alone  till  the  moonlight  was  wrestling 
with  the  yellow  of  the  dawn.  The  shreds  of  loin- 
clout  grew  fewer  and  fewer,  each  piece  at  a  greater 
distance  than  the  last;  but  only  by  their  aid  was  sh& 
able  to  assuage  the  pain  consuming  her,  and  so  they 
led  her  on  and  on. 

"The  sun  had  come  to  life  when  at  length  slid 
came  out  of  the  jungle  on  to  a  big  clearing,  in  which 
the  Sakai  had  planted  a  catch-crop,  and  in  the 
centre  of  it  were  the  rude  huts  in  which  the  forest 
dwellers  herd.  At  the  foot  of  the  low  ladder  lead- 
ing to  the  first  of  these,  and  facing  the  track  by 
which  she  had  come,  sat  Pa'  Ah-Gap,  waiting  for 
her. 

"He  sat  quite  still,  looking  at  her  with  eyes  that 
mocked;  and  of  a  sudden  she  knew  that  only  the 
embrace  of  this  man  would  extinguish  the  magic 


TUKANG  BtROK'S  STORY  3G0 

fires  that  were  eating  out  her  life.  Also,  shame, 
which  is  as  an  eternal  fetter  clamped  about  the 
ankles  of  women,  fell  from  her,  and  she  was  aware 
of  a  mighty  passion  for  this  aged  and  depraved  crea- 
ture springing  up  hot  and  masterful  in  her  breast. 
Therefore,  she  ran  to  him,  casting  herself  at  his  feet 
and  across  his  knees,  entreating  him,  with  cries  and 
pleadings,  to  have  his  will  of  her.  Thus  was  ac- 
complished all  that  he  had  foretold. 

"What  say  you,  Tuan?  Was  not  the  magic  of 
this  accursed  Sakai  very  powerful  and  marvellous? 
Even  among  our  own  folk,  Muhammadan  with 
Muhammadan,'  no  maiden  willingly  throws  herself 
into  the  arms  of  her  lover,  love  she  never  so  dearly; 
for  Allah,  in  his  wisdom,  have  so  fashioned  women 
that  they  feel  shame  pressing  upon  them  like  an  over- 
whelming burden,  which  so  crushes  them  and  the 
desire  within  them  that  they  may  not  move  hand  or 
foot.  This  hath  been  prudently  ordered,  for  were 
there  no  modesty  among  v/omen,  great  trouble  would 
ensue,  seeing  that  their  passions  are  greater  than  the 
passions  of  men;  and  even  now,  though  shame  still 
lingers  in  the  land,  there  is  trouble  and  to  spare  of 
women's  making.  But,  behold,  it  now  befell  that 
Hodoh,  a  Muhammadan  and  a  virgin,  my  betrothed, 
my  love,  the  core  of  my  heart's  core,  one  who  was 
rendered  by  her  beauty  the  most  desirable  among 
women,  yielded  herself  with  entreaties  to  this  infidel, 
this  wild  man  of  the  woods — a  Sakai,  filthy  and 
diseased — praying  for  his  love,  and  caressing  his 
soot-begrimed  hide.     Was  ever  madness  or  magic 


370  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

like  unto  this?  Ya  Allah!  Ya  Tuhan-ku!  I  can- 
not bear  to  think  of  that  which  befell." 

Old  Tukang  Burok  paused  in  his  narrative,  and 
spat  disgustedly  and  with  emphasis  into  the  stream 
below.  His  lined  and  wrinkled  face  was  working 
queerly.  He  had  let  his  tools  fall  from  his  grasp, 
and  his  hands  were  trembling.  Even  after  the  lapse 
of  many  years,  the  memory  of  his  balked  desire,  and 
the  thought  of  his  love  surrendering  herself  to  a 
despised  jungle  man,  aroused  in  him  fierce  passions 
of  rage  and  jealousy. 

For  a  minute  or  two  he  was  silent;  then  selecting 
a  chisel  with  care,  he  set  to  work  to  bevel  the  kamun- 
ing  wood  with  great  delicacy  and  finish.  Presently, 
after  again  expectorating  emphatically,  he  resumed 
his  story. 

"She  dwelt  three  full  days  and  nights  with  this 
accursed  Sakai — may  Allah  blight  him  utterly! — 
ere  ever  we  learned  from  some  of  his  own  folk  that 
she  was  among  the  jungle  people.  Then  Che'  Mat, 
her  father,  and  her  brethren  and  her  relatives — 
men  knowing  the  use  of  weapons — went,  and  I  with 
them,  making  great  speed,  to  the  Sakai  camp.  But, 
alas,  Pa'  Ah-Gaj)  luid  fled,  and  Hodoh  had  gone  with 
him.  Some  men,  however,  remained  in  the  camp, 
and  these,  by  means  of  the  tuas*  we  persuaded  to 

♦The  tuas  is  a  very  simple  and  effective  torture  in  considerable  favour  amon** 
Malays  when  more  elaborate  appliances  are  not  available.  The  victim  ic  placed 
upon  the  ground  in  a  sitting  position,  with  his  legs  extended  before  him.  A  stout 
piece  of  wood  is  then  placed  across  his  thighs,  and  a  second  piece  is  then  passed 
over  the  first,  and  inserted  under  his  buttocks.  Next,  using  the  second  piece  of 
wood  as  a  lever,  air  I  the  first  piece  as  the  fulcrum,  great  pressure  is  exerted,  in 
such  a  inann'T  that  the  thighs  of  the  victim  are  crushed  down  toward  the  ground, 
While  tlv^  ijuuocks  arc  pu  :l'.eJ  violently  upward,  causing  acute  pain. 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY     371 

show  us  the  path  which  the  fugutives  had  taken. 
Thereafter,  during  many  weary  days,  we  followed  on 
his  trail — at  times  close  on  his  heels,  at  others  losing 
all  trace  of  him;  but  though  Hodoh  went  with  hlni 
willingly,  she  had  no  woodcraft  and  could  not  con- 
ceal her  tracks,  and  also  she  went  slowly,  and  so 
aided  our  pursuit.  On  that  so  terrible  journey  I  ate 
no  rice,  though  I  drank  deeply  at  the  springs,  for  my 
throat  was  parched;  and  at  night  sleep  did  not  visit 
me,  till  I  was  like  one  d?mented.  Moreover,  the 
madness  of  love  was  upon  me,  and  my  rage  was  like 
a  red-hot  goad  urging  me  onward. 

"For  how  many  days  and  nights  we  journeyed  thus 
I  cannot  tell,  but  Che'  Mat  and  all  his  people  were 
wearying  of  the  quest,  which  I  would  not  suffer  ihem 
to  abandon,  when  in  the  fullness  of  the  appointed 
hour  we  found  Pa'  Ah-Gap  asleep,  with  Hodoh, 
clad  only  in  a  loin-clout,  by  his  side  in  the  warm 
ashes  of  their  camp  fire.  The  Sakai  dog  had  tattooed 
her  face,  as  is  the  wont  of  these  so  animal-like  people, 
and  she  was  moreover  very  thin  and  worn,  and  much 
aged  by  her  sojourn  in  the  forest,  and  she  was  be- 
grimed with  the  dirt  and  the  wood  ashes  of  the  Sakai 
lairs.  We  caught  him  alive,  for  he  slept  heavily, 
])eing  wearied  by  his  long  marches;  and  I  and  one 
other,  Hodoh's  Ijrotlier  crept  very  cauliously  upon 
him.  Also,  I  think,  Allah  whom  he  had  offended, 
for  he  was  an  infidel,  while  the  woman  was  of  the 
Faith,  gave  him  that  day  into  our  hands,  for  mostly 
the  jungle-folk  sleep  with  one  ear  cocked  and  one  eye 
agape. 


nrs  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

"We  bound  him  hand  and  foot  with  cords  of  rat- 
tan, which  ate  into  his  flesh  as  this  chisel  eats  into 
the  kamuning  wood,  and  we  used  such  force  that 
he  screamed  aloud  with  pain.  She  who  had  been 
Hodoh  fought  and  bit  at  us,  like  a  wildcat  newh^ 
caught  in  the  woods,  so  we  were  obliged  to  bind  her 
also,  but  gently,  with  the  cloth  of  our  sarongs,  doing 
her  no  hurt.  Thus  we  bore  them  back  to  the  village 
whence  Hodoh  had  fled  upon  that  fatal  night;  and 
thereafter  we  put  Pa'  Ah-Gap  to  the  torture  of  the 
bamboo." 

"What  is  that?"  I  asked. 

Tukang  Burok  smiled  grimly,  his  old  eyes  lighting 
up  with  a  thrill  of  pleasurable  recollection. 

"It  is  not  fitting,  Tuan,  that  I  should  describe  it 
with  particularity,"  he  said.  "There  be  certain 
methods,  none  the  less,  whereby  the  quick-growing 
shoot  of  the  small  bamboo  can  be  taught  to  grow  into 
the  vitals  of  a  man,  causing  him  such  slow  agony  as 
even  the  Shetans  in  Jehannam  have  scarce  dreamed 
of. 

"When  first  we  bound  him  to  the  seat  whereon  he 
was  to  die,  he  glared  upon  us  with  the  eyes  of  a  wild 
beast,  giving  vent  to  no  sound;  and  I  was  grieved 
that  he  did  not  pray  for  mercy,  that  I,  with  mockery, 
might  refuse  it  to  him.  But  later,  when  the  bam- 
boo began  to  grow,  he  prayed  to  be  spared  till  I, 
who  sat  beside  him,  keeping  a  ceaseless  vigil  aiul 
gloating  over  his  pain,  even  I  was  nearly  satisfied. 
His  agony  was  very  lingering  and  keen,  and  soon  he 
entreated  us  to  kill  him,  suing  for  death,  as  a  lover 


TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY     378 

importunes  his  mistress.  Often,  irked  by  his  clam- 
our, I  smote  him  on  the  Hps — those  Hps  which  had 
done  her  dishonour.  Then  for  a  space  he  became 
mad,  flinging  his  body  this  way  and  that,  and  raving 
night  and  day;  and  this  made  me  sad,  for  while  the 
insanity  was  upon  him  he  could  no  longer  feel,  as  I 
had  a  mind  that  this  man  should  feel  even  to  the 
brink  of  the  hour  in  which  death  snatched  him  from 
us.  And  at  last,  when  he  was  dead,  my  rage  was 
slill  unsated,  and  I  besought  Allah,  the  Merciful 
and  Compassionate,  that  his  agony  might  endure  for- 
ever. 

''In  the  hour  when  he  died,  Hodoh  came  back  to 
us  out  of  the  eitchantment  which  had  held  her  cap- 
tive, for  the  spell  laid  upon  her  was  broken.  But  her 
memory  held  the  recollection  of  all  that  had  befallen 
her,  so  that  she  was  well-nigh  distraught  with  shame. 
A^o  \er  ^^ody  %^as  weakened  by  her  life  in  the  jungle, 
«fid  she  was  racked  by  fever  and  many  aches  and 
pains.  Moreover,  the  burning  of  her  skin,  she  said, 
was  that  which  Pa'  Ah-Gap  had  inflicted  upon  her 
by  his  magic  on  the  evening  of  the  day  when  she 
miscalled  him. 

"She  had  no  desire  to  live,  and  very  soon  she 
returned  to  the  mercy  of  Allah,  and  I  was  left  alive 
to  mourn  during  all  my  days  for  the  fairest  maiden 
ever  born  of  woman,  who  had  lighted  in  my  breast 
fires  of  desire  than  the  years  have  never  quenched. 
And  how  bitter  is  the  thought  that  such  a  thing  of 
l)eauty  was  wasted  upon  a  dog  of  a  Sakai — the  vilest 


374  TUKANG  BUROK'S  STORY 

of  our  kind.  It  is  that  memory  which  is  my  per- 
petual pain;  wherefore,  Tuan,  when  as  dbcasion  re- 
quires, you  pray  unto  your  Christian  God,  bid  Him 
join  with  Allah  in  the  utter  blighting  and  destruc- 
tion of  the  soul  of  Pa'  Ah-Gap,  the  Sakai." 


IN  CHAINS 

IT  WAS  rather  more  than  five  and  twenty 
years  ago  that  I  returned  from  leave  of 
absence  in  Europe,  and  took  charge  of  the 
district  which  forms  the  interior  of  the  native  state  of 
Pahang,  and  is  the  exact  core  and-centre  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula.  It  was  a  })ig  tract  of  coimtry,  over  three 
thousand  square  miles  in  extent,  and  in  those  days 
was  reckoned  the  wildest  part  of  the  protected  Ma- 
layan states.  It  did  not  boast  a  mile  of  made  road 
or  bridle  path  in  all  its  vast  expanse;  it  was  smothered 
in  deep,  damp  forest,  threaded  across  and  across  by 
a  network  of  streams  and  rivers,  the  latter  the  best 
of  our  highways;  and  a  sparse  sprinkling  of  Malay 
villages  was  strewn  over  its  surface — a  dozen  or  two 
of  thatched  roofs  in  shady  palm  and  fruit  groves 
adjoining  wide,  flat  stretches  of  rice-field  and  grazing 
grounds  studded  with  rhododendron  scrub.  Besides 
the  Malay  population  there  were  a  few  camps  filled 
with  Chinese  miners  engaged  in  fossicking  for  gold; 
a  band  or  two  of  sulky  Australian  prospectors,  sorely 
discontented  with  the  results  which  they  were  ob- 
taining; and  an  odd  thousand  or  so  of  squalid  abori- 
gines, living  in  dirt  and  wretchedness  up  in  the 
mountains.  For  the  rest  the  inhabitants  of  my 
district  were  native  chiefs,   the  overlords  and   op- 

S76 


376  IN  CHAINS 

pressors,  and  Malayan  villagers,  the  serfs  and  the 
oppressed.  The  power  of  the  former  (which  was 
usually  exerted  for  evil)  had  not  yet  been  broken  or 
fettered;  the  spirit  of  independence  which  to-day 
animates  the  latter  class  had  not  at  that  time  been 
awakened,  and  the  world  into  which  I  was  suddenly 
precipitated — an  influence  shot  straight  out  of  the 
civilized  nineteeth  century  into  a  living  past — was 
one  as  primitive  as  any  which  existed  in  Europe  in 
the  early  Middle  Ages. 

I  had  a  hut  on  the  banks  of  the  Lipis  River,  a  single 
room  staggering  upon  six  crazy  piles  some  fifteen 
feet  in  height,  which  was  at  once  my  dwelling,  my 
oflSce,  my  treasury,  and  my  courthouse.  The  ceiling 
was  formed  by  the  browny-yellow  thatch  running 
up  into  a  cone,  supported  upon  an  irregular  arrange- 
ment of  beams  and  rafters  in  which  by  day  the  big, 
black,  flying  beetles  bored  their  holes,  covering  me 
with  fine  wood  dust,  while  at  night-time  the  rats 
chased  one  another  along  them,  squeaking  dismally. 

When  I  looked  out  of  my  window,  a  little  lopsided 
oblong  of  sunlight  sawn  unevenly  out  of  the  ragged 
bamboo  wattle,  my  sight  dropped  fifty  feet  sheer  into 
the  olive-green  waters  of  the  Lipis,  for  the  long  stalk - 
like  legs  upon  which  the  flooring  of  my  hut  rested 
were  canted  dangerously  riverward.  From  under 
their  feet  the  bank  fell  away  in  a  headlong  pitch,  so 
that  I  lived  in  the  expectation  of  seeing  my  habita- 
tion take  a  leap  into  the  cool  waters  of  the  stream; 
and  when  the  wind  came  down  in  the  heavy  gusts 
which,  in  the  spring,  heralded  the  daily  afternoon 


IN  CHAINS  377 

downpour,  I  could  feel  the  whole  thing  bracing  itself 
for  the  jump,  with  a  creaking  of  timbers  and  a  noisy 
whining  of  the  strained  wattling. 

It  was  not  much  of  a  hut,  it  must  be  confessed,  and 
I  speedily  got  myself  into  much  better  quarters;  but 
in  those  days  I  stood  in  no  great  need  of  a  dwelling- 
place  of  my  own.  The  district  under  my  charge 
was  extensive  and  it  seemed  to  be  cut  off  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  almost  as  effectually  as  would  have 
been  the  case  if  it  had  been  located  on  the  surface 
of  some  alien  planet.  I  had  been  set  apart  from 
my  fellow  civil  servants  to  learn  all  that  was  possible 
concerning  it,  to  win  the  shy  confidence  of  a  people 
to  whom  white  men  were  a  new  and  suspect  breed, 
to  make  myself- a  factor  in  their  everyday  life,  and 
thereby  to  establish  a  personal  influence  among  them, 
the  which,  in  a  new  land,  is  the  first,  surest  founda- 
tion of  British  rule.  All  this  meant  that  it  was  my 
lot  to  rival  the  restlessness  of  the  Wandering  Jew; 
to  sleep  rarely  more  than  a  single  night  in  the  same 
casual  resting-place;  to  live  on  what  I  could  get, 
which  often  enough  did  not  amount  to  much;  and 
little  by  little  so  to  familiarize  the  natives  with  my 
ubiquity  that  they  should  come  to  regard  me  and  my 
visits  as  among  the  commonest  incidents  in  the  ex- 
jjerience  of  every  village  scattered  up  and  down  a  wide 
countryside. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  conceive  a  life  more  delight- 
fid  for  a  healthy  youngster  blessed  with  a  keen  in- 
terest in  the  much  whicli  he  was  learning  and  in  the 
little  that  he  was  slowly  and  cautiously  teaching. 


878  IN  CHAINS 

A  hurried  meal  soon  after  the  dawn  had  broken;  a 
long  tramp  from  village  to  village  while  daylight 
lasted;  a  swim  in  the  river;  a  huge  plate  of  rice  and 
curry,  cooked  by  the  womenfolk  of  the  place  and 
eaten  with  a  hunter's  apjjetite;  a  smoke  and  a  yarn 
with  the  elders  of  the  place,  picturesque  figures 
grouped  around  one  in  a  semicircle,  chewing  betel 
nut,  as  the  placid  cattle  masticate  the  cud;  a  dis- 
])ute  or  two,  i)erhaps,  settled  between  smoke  and 
smoke,  without  any  magisterial  formalities;  a  shred 
or  two  of  infornuition  picked  up  here  and  there  upon 
matters  which  would  some  day  be  of  importance; 
and  then  sound,  soul-satisfying  sleep,  and  early 
waking,  and  another  long  day  of  labour  and  of  life. 
By  boat  and  raft  on  rivers  small  or  great;  tramping 
through  the  gloomy  depths  of  forests  hitherto  un- 
exj)lored  by  white  men  or  across  rice-swamps  sizzling 
i  1  the  midday  heat;  camping  at  niglit  in  my  boat  on 
the  river,  in  a  headman's  house  under  the  peaked  roof 
of  a  little  \'il]ago  mosque,  or  in  some  crop  watcher's 
liut;  sleeping  out  on  a  sandbank,  or  on  the  ground  in 
the  dead  jvmgh\  witli  my  mat  spread  upon  a  bed  of 
boughs  and  with  a  green  palm-leaf  shelter  to  ward  off 
the  worst  of  the  drenching  dews;  shooting  rapids, 
])addling  down  or  poling  uj)  the  rivers;  skimming  tlie 
cream  of  inviolate  snipc^  grounds,  or  watching  for 
game  on  the  edge  of  a  salt-lick — however  I  travelled, 
wherever  I  stayed  or  halted,  no  matter  who  the 
strange  folk  with  whom  I  daily  consorted,  I  tasted 
to  the  full  the  joys  of  a  complete  independence,  the 
delights  of  fresli,  open  air  and  hard  exercise,  and 


IN  CHAINS  379 

enough  work  to  keep  the  mind  as  fit  and  supple  as  the 
Hmbs.  I  had  been  jerked  out  of  the  age  in  which  I 
had  been  born,  out  of  the  scurry  and  bustle  of  Euro- 
pean life,  out  of  touch  with  the  mechanical  contriv- 
ances which  restrict  a  man's  freedom  of  action  and 
judgment  and  cause  his  love  of  responsibility  to 
atroi)hy  into  a  world  of  unfettered  freedom  among  a 
semi-civilized  people,  where  nature  still  had  her  own 
way  unchecked  by  the  intrusions  of  applied  science, 
and  where  men  and  things  were  primitive  and  ele- 
mental. 

I  had  had  plenty  of  experience  as  a  jungle-dweller 
long  before  I  took  charge  of  the  interior  district  of 
Pahang;  and  since  a  knowledge  of  how  to  travel  and 
how  to  live  in  a  Malayan  forest  land  is  more  than 
half  the  battle,  I  escaped,  for  the  most  part,  the 
heavy  troubles  of  which  so  many  newcomers  are 
able  to  tell  such  moving  tales.  None  the  less,  the 
jungles  played  their  pranks  with  me  more  than  once, 
and  the  first  trip  which  I  took  after  my  return  to 
duty  was  packed  as  closely  with  small  adventures 
as  is  the  average  boy's  book  with  hair-breadth  es- 
capes and  perils  miraculously  overcome. 

I  left  my  hut  early  one  morning  with  half  a  dozen 
of  my  Malay  followers  trailing  Ijehind  me  in  single 
file.  A  Gladstone  bag,  a  japanned  despatch  box, 
and  a  large  basket  carried  knapsack  wise,  and  filled 
to  the  brim  with  cooking-pots,  j)lates,  dishes,  and 
miscellaneous  kitchen  utensils,  were  the  three  princi- 
pal loads.  .A  fourth  man  carried  my  bed.  I  remem- 
ber thinking,  when  I  was  a  small  boy,  that  the  facility 


.'580  IN  CHAINS 

with  which  the  man  sick  of  the  palsy  complied  with 
the  divine  command,  "Take  up  thy  bed,  and  go  unto 
thine  house,"  was  the  major  part  of  the  miracle; 
and  this  impression  was  confirmed  by  a  picture  in  the 
old  family  Bible,  in  which  the  whilom  invalid  was 
represented  staggering  away  under  the  weight  of  a 
vast  four-poster.  It  was  not  until  I  came  to  the 
East  that  I  realized  how  simple  a  matter  is  the  sleep- 
ing gear  of  the  average  Oriental.  My  "bed"  con- 
sisted of  a  native  mat  of  plaited  mengkuang  palm 
leaves,  a  narrow  flock  mattress,  half  an  inch  in  thick- 
ness, and  a  couple  of  European  pillows.  The  whole 
thing  did  not  weigh  more  than  twenty  pounds,  unless  it 
was  saturated  with  rain  water,  when  it  tipped  the  scale 
at  about  double  that  figure.  It  had  the  additional 
advantage  of  possessing  no  sharp  corners  of  projec- 
tions calculated  to  gall  the  bearer's  back,  and  con- 
sequently it  was  the  most  popular  piece  of  my  bag- 
gage, and  was  usually  annexed  by  the  strongest  and 
most  violent-tempered  of  my  men.  The  unyielding 
despatch  box  generally  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  man 
among  my  followers  who  was  least  capable  of  stick- 
ing up  for  his  rights  and  who  was  accordingly  the 
least  fit  to  bear  the  burden. 

It  was  a  bright,  cool  morning  when  we  started  with 
a  little  ribbon  of  cloudlike  mist  showing  above  the 
treetops  as  one  looked  up  the  valley  of  the  Lipis, 
marking  faitlifuUy  the  windings  of  the  river.  The 
birds  were  noisy  and  a  few  gayly  feathered  paroquets 
fluttered  from  bush  to  bush  as  we  made  our  way 
through  the  low  scrub  jungle  near  the  bank  of  the 


IN  CHAINS  381 

stream.  The  spiders  had  been  busy. all  night,  and 
their  slimy  webs  stretched  across  the  footpath  we 
were  following  glued  themselves  so  unpleasantly  to 
my  face  that,  contrary  to  my  wont,  I  bade  Akob,  one 
of  my  men,  walk  in  front  of  me  to  keep  the  way 
clear  of  these  frail  barriers.  In  this  manner  we  had 
trudged  along  steadily  for  a  couple  of  hours  and  the 
heat  of  the  tropical  day  was  already  beginning  to 
make  itself  felt,  stilling  the  noisy  life  of  the  jungle 
and  drying  up  the  dewdrops,  when  suddenly  Akob 
halted  abruptly  and  pointed,  in  evident  excitement, 
at  something  ahead  of  him.  We  were  standing  on 
the  brink  of  a  narrow  creek  on  either  side  of  which  a 
steeply  cleft  bank  rose  at  a  sharp  angle  from  the 
water's  edge.  Leaning  forward  to  look  over  Akob's 
shoulder,  I  saw  half  a  dozen  yards  away,  upon  the 
surface  of  the  opposite  bank,  a  curious  patch,  ir- 
regular in  shape,  and  discoloured  a  peculiarly  blended 
black  and  yellow.  It  had  a  sirsmge furry  appearance, 
but  shimmered  with  a  suggestion  of  restless  life. 
All  this  I  noted  in  an  instant,  not  realizing  in  the 
least  the  nature  of  the  object  at  which  I  was  gazing; 
and  then,  without  any  warning,  the  patch  rose  at  us, 
rose  like  a  cheap  black  and  yellow  railway  rug  tossed 
upward  by  the  wind.  A  humming,  purring  sound 
accompanied  its  flight,  and  a  second  later  it  had 
resolved  itself  into  its  elements,  and  had  precipitated 
itself  upon  us — a  swarm  of  bees,  mad  with  rage  and 
thirsting  for  blood  and  vengeance. 
*  Akob,  hiding  his  head  in  his  arms,  slewed  round 
sharply  and  charged  away,  nearly  knocking  me  off 


383,  IN  CHAINS 

my  legs.  I  followed  headlong,  broke  through  my 
bewildered  followers,  tore  out  of  the  little  belt  of 
jungle  which  we  had  just  entered  and  sprinted  for 
my  life  across  a  patch  of  short  grass  beyond.  For  a 
moment  I  believed  myself  to  have  given  the  enemy 
the  slip,  and  I  turned  to  watch  my  people,  their 
burdens  thrown  to  the  winds,  tumbling  out  of  cover, 
yelling  like  madmen,  and  beating  the  air  with  their 
wildly  whirling  arms.  Another  instant  and  I  was 
again  put  to  ignominious  flight.  I  pulled  my  huge 
felt  hat  from  my  head  and  flogged  with  it  the  cloudlike 
squadrons  of  my  foes.  All  the  while  I  ran  as  fast 
as  my  legs  would  carry  me,  but  the  bees  were  not  to 
be  outpaced.  They  plunged  their  stings  deep  into 
my  flannel  shirt  and  into  the  tough  Cananore  cloth 
of  my  rough  jungle  trousers;  they  stung  my  bare 
arms,  and  hands  and  neck  mercilessly,  and  I  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  warding  them  off  my  face  and 
eyes.  I  was  panting  for  breath,  sweating  at  every 
pore  and  was  beginning  to  feel  most  uncommonly 
done  and  to  experience  something  akin  to  real  fear, 
when  suddenly  I  caught  sight  of  the  waters  of  the 
Rengai,  a  little  river  which  flows  through  these  forests 
to  the  Lipis. 

"Take  to  the  water!  Take  to  the  water!"  I 
shouted  to  my  howling  men,  and  only  waiting  to  slip 
my  })istol  belt  with  its  i)ouclies  for  watch,  compass, 
money,  tobacco,  etc.,  a  delay  for  which  I  had  to  pay 
a  heavy  j)rice  in  stings,  I  jilunged  neck  and  croj)  into 
the  shalKnv  water.  My  Malays  came  after  me  heltei'- 
skeller,  like  a  flock  of  sheep  following  at  the  heels  of  ^ 


IN  CHAINS  383 

bell-wether;  but  with  us  all  came  the  army  of  bees, 
stinging,  stinging,  stinging,  for  the  life. 

I  was  thoroughly  winded  by  the  time  I  took  to  the 
water,  and  it  was  impossible  to  keep  under  for  more 
than  a  few  seconds;  yet  when  I  rose  to  the  surface 
the  bees  were  still  there  more  angry  than  ever,  and 
I  was  driven  under  again,  while  my  lungs  pumped  and 
sobbed  painfully.  Again  I  rose,  again  was  set  upon, 
again  was  driven  under  water.  My  heart  was  leap- 
ing about  in  my  body  like  some  wild  thing  seeking  to 
escape;  I  was  so  distressed  for  breath  that  my  senses 
were  reeling;  I  was  rapidly  becoming  desperate.  It 
flashed  across  my  mind  that  to  be  drowned  or  stung 
to  death  in  a  puddle  by  a  swarm  of  insignificant  in- 
sects was  about  as  ridiculous  and  as  ignominious 
a  way  of  making  one's  exit  from  life  as  could  well 
be  conceived;  yet,  at  the  moment,  it  seemed  almost 
certain  that  this  was  the  preposterous  lot  which  a 
capricious  fate  had  assigned  to  me. 

As  I  came  sobbing  to  the  surface  to  meet  yet  another 
furious  assault,  I  heard  Saleh,  my  head  boatman,  cry 
aloud: 

"Throw  a  bough  for  them  to  alight  upon!" 

The  words  were  in  my  ears  as  I  was  again  driven 
to  dive,  and  in  a  flash  their  meaning  was  made  clear 
to  me.  I  struggled  toward  the  bank,  tugged  off  a 
branch  from  an  overhanging  tree,  threw  it  on  the 
surface  of  the  stream,  and  dived  once  more.  One 
or  two  of  my  men  followed  suit,  and  when,  having 
remained  under  water  as  long  as  I  could,  I  rose  once 
more  in  a  state  of  j)itiful  exhaustion,  I  saw  half  a 


384  IN  CHAINS 

dozen  branches  floating  gayly  downstream  covered 
three  deep  by  clusters  of  struggHng  and  stinging  bees. 

I  rose  to  my  feet,  waded  to  the  bank,  and  for  a 
good  quarter  of  an  hour  sat  there  panting  and 
hawking  and  fighting  to  regain  my  breath.  Then 
we  fell  to  counting  our  losses  and  to  estimating  the 
damage  done.  One  of  my  men,  a  Sumatran  Malay 
named  Dolman,  was  in  a  fainting  condition.  He 
had  been  stung  in  nearly  two  hundred  places;  his 
face  was  reduced  to  a  shapeless  mass  in  which  no 
feature  was  any  longer  distinguishable;  and  he 
vomited  so  violently  that  I  feared  for  his  life.  Wo 
put  him  into  a  boat  and  the  neighbouring  villagers  of 
Dolut  undertook  to  send  him  back  to  my  hut  at 
Penjum.  Then  the  rest  of  us  limped  across  grazing 
grounds  to  the  village  and  lay  down  upon  the  clean 
mats  spread  for  us  on  the  veranda  of  the  headman's 
house,  where  we  endured  the  fever  that  was  burning 
In  our  blood.  Our  hands  were  like  great  boxing 
gloves,  our  heads  and  faces  were  swollen,  and  puffy, 
and  we  had  to  abandon  all  idea  of  proceeding  far- 
ther upon  our  journey  that  day. 

We  were  profoundly  sorry  for  ourselves,  and  we 
were  less  relieved  than  disgusted  when  one  of  our 
number,  who  had  been  missing  and  whom  we  had 
reckoned  as  dead,  came  in  half  an  hoin*  later  per- 
fectly unharmed.  He  had  seen  the  bees  coming, 
he  told  us,  and  had  squatted  down  and  remained 
quite  still  to  await  their  assault.  They  had  covered 
him  from  head  to  foot;  but  as  a  bee  is  aware  that 
using    his    sting   usually   results   in   his   own   death. 


IN  CHAINS  .''>S.> 

he  never  strikes  unless  he  has  persuaded  hhnseli 
that  the  last  sacrifice  is  demanded  of  him  on  behalf 
of  the  hive.  Accordingly  the  clouds  of  insects  had 
settled  all  over  my  Malay,  had  investigated  him 
closely,  and  then  had  passed  on  leaving  him  unhurt. 
It  was  exasperating  to  realize  that  we  had  had  our 
frantic  stampede,  our  fight,  our  su'ffocation  under 
water,  and  the  pains  we  were  then  endufing  for 
nothing,  and  that  all  might  have  been  avoided  by 
the  exercise  of  presence  of  mind  coupled  with  a 
sufficiency  of  cool  nerve.  The  latter,  of  course,  was 
the  really  vital  possession  and  fresh  from  my  recent 
encounter,  I  questioned  whether  I  had  enough  of 
•"ourage  in  me  to  enable  me  to  sit  calmly  under  a 
load  of  investigating  bees,  knowing  that  a  single 
voluntary  movement  would  entail  a  peculiarly  pain- 
ful and  ugly  death.  Therefore,  I  sat  in  silence, 
listening  to  my  follower's  account  of  his  proceedings, 
while  he  picked  six  and  thirty  stings  out  of  my  felt 
hat  and  more  than  a  hundred  out  of  my  flannel 
shirt. 

The  bees,  he  said,  were  irascible  and  unreasonable 
creatures.  Their  nest  had,  on  this  occasion,  been 
swooped  down  upon  by  a  kite,  which  had  borne  off 
a  portion  of  the  nursery  before  the  fighting  part  of 
the  population  had  become  aware  of  the  danger. 
Then  the  standing  army  had  been  called  out,  and 
since  we  chanced  to  be  the  next  living  thing  to  come 
their  way,  they  had  mistaken  us  for  the  thieves  and 
liad  promptly  declared  war  upon  us.  Therefore  we 
had  been  made  to  bear  the  punishment  due  for  the 


386  IN  CHAINS 

sins  of  a  kite,  and  had  run  ourselves  dizzy  and  had 
half  drowned  ourselves  in  the  river  when  we  should 
have  done  better  to  sit  still.  The  situation  was 
sufficiently  humiliating. 

Next  day  we  continued  our  interrupted  march, 
and  nothing  worth  detailed  record  happened  for  a 
week  or  so.  At  one  village  a  stealthy  visit  was  paid 
to  me  by  three  young  nobles,  whose  father  had 
recently  had  a  difference  of  opinion  with  the  rulers 
of  the  land,  which  had  resulted  for  him  in  a  violent 
death.  His  sons  who  had  had  no  share  in  their 
father's  misdeeds,  had  promptly  taken  to  the  jungle, 
and  as  they  were  fighting  men  of  some  repute,  all 
manner  of  wild  rumours  as  to  the  trouble  they  were 
meditating  were  afloat  in  the  district  on  my  arrival 
in  it.  I  had  known  them  intimately  before  I  left 
Pahang  on  leave,  and  as  soon  as  they  learned  that  I 
was  once  again  in  their  neighbourhood,  thej'  sought 
me  out  for  the  purpose  of  talking  matters  over  and, 
if  possible,  of  making  their  peace  with  the  Govern- 
ment. They  crept  into  my  camp  in  the  dead  of 
night,  armed  to  the  teeth,  very  apprehensive,  and 
ready  for  all  eventualities.  At  first  they  were  like 
hunted  jungle  creatures  that  feared  a  trap,  but  they 
ended  by  spreading  their  sleeping  mats  alongside 
mine  and  snoring  contentedly  imtil  the  daybreak 
woke  us. 

Another  night  I  passed  in  a  mining  camp,  where  a 
crowd  of  depressed  Australians  were  squatting  in  a 
couple  of  makeshift  huts  beside  a  pool  filled  to  the 
brim  witli  dirty  water,  green  with  arsenic  and  duck- 


IN  CHAINS  387 

weed  This  was  all  that  at  that  time  represented 
the  Raiib  Mine,  which  later  beeanie  n  rather  notori- 
ous centre  of  speculation,  and  was  at  one  time  ex- 
pected to  prove  one  of  the  great  gold  producers  of 
the  East. 

From  Raul)  I  tramped  on  to  the  foot  of  the  main 
range,  where  people  of  many  nationalities  were 
busy  sluicing  for  tin;  and  thence  I  decided  to  cut 
across  the  forest  so  as  to  strike  the  head  waters  of  a 
river  called  the  Senipam  which  at  that  time  had 
never  been  visited  by  an  European  and  was  fcrr  i 
incognita  to  all  save  a  very  few  of  even  the  Malays 
of  the  district. 

Not  without  difficulty  I  succeeded  in  enlisting  tlr^ 
services  of  an  aboriginal  tribesman — a  Sakai — ^who 
imdertook  to  guide  me  to  the  banks  of  the  Sempam, 
})ut  stoutly  declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with  my 
])roposed  attempt  to  descend  that  rock-beset  river. 
He  moved  along  in  front  of  my  i)arty,  with  the 
noiseless,  catlike  gait  which  distinguishes  the  jungle- 
folk,  and  once  he  comj)lained  bitterly  that  the  "klap- 
klip-klap"  of  my  canvas  shoes  on  the  ground  behind 
him  was  so  bewildering  that  he  feared  that  "the 
doors  of  the  jungle  would  thereby  be  closed  to  him," 
which  was  his  way  of  suggesting  tliat  he  thought 
it  likely  that  he  would  lose  his  way.  In  commo!i 
with  the  rest  of  his  race,  he  possesseil  no  power  of 
instituting  a  comparison  between  one  thing  and 
another,  and  when  we  were  within  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred yards  of  our  destination  he  still  obstinately 
maintained  that  it  was  as  far  ahead  of  us  as  our  orig- 


388  IN  CHAINS 

inal  starting-place  was  behind  us.  When,  a  few 
minutes  later,  this  assertion  was  disproved,  he  re- 
mained quite  unabashed.  The  difference  between 
the  two  distances — a  matter  of  some  seven  miles — 
was  to  him,  he  declared,  imperceptible.  They  were 
both  "a  long  way,"  and  viewed  from  this  standpoint, 
they  were  to  the  limitations  of  his  intellect  indis- 
tinguishably  alike. 

At  the  point  where  we  struck  the  Sempam  River, 
its  banks  were  covered  by  dense  clumps  of  bamboos 
of  the  kind  the  Malays  call  hidoh  padi,  graceful, 
drooping  stems,  tapering  to  slender  shoots  five  and 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  all  rising,  plumelike, 
from  a  common  centre,  and  set  with  innumerable 
delicate  branches  and  feathery  foliage.  The  river, 
at  this  point  about  a  dozen  yards  in  width,  ran 
swiftly  and  silently,  an  olive-green  flood,  flecked  here 
and  there  by  little  splashes  of  sunlight.  The  forest 
around  us  was  intensely  still,  for  the  hot  hours  of  the 
day  were  upon  us,  and  a  sense  of  the  wildness  of 
the  place  and  of  its  utter  remoteness  from  mankind, 
filled  me  with  a  sort  of  awe.  It  was  with  a  feeling  akin 
to  shame  that  I  gave  the  word  which  was  to  disturb 
the  profound  peace  and  to  set  man's  defacing  thumb 
mark  upon  all  this  inviolate  beauty. 

As  soon  as  they  had  stacked  their  loads,  however, 
my  men  drew  their  woodknives  and  set  to  work 
felling  bamboos  from  which  to  fashion  our  raft.s. 
The  ringing  notes  of  their  blades  smiting  the  hollow 
stems  carried  far  and  wide,  awaking  the  forest  echoes, 
and  the  bamboos  creaked  and  groaned  like  things  in 


IN  CHAINS  380 

pain,  as  one  by  one  they  slowly  collapsed,  toppling 
into  the  river,  whence  they  were  towed  into  the  shal- 
lows to-  be  trimmed  of  their  branches  and  cut  to  the 
requisite  length.  A  couple  of  hours'  hard  work  saw 
foljr  stout  rafts  floating  high  out  of  the  water,  the 
river  fretting  and  fuming  about  their  slippery  green 
sides,  the  newly  cut  rattans  exuding  a  milky  sap  as 
my  men  bound  the  bamboos  together  by  means 
of  strong  cross-pieces  fore  and  aft  and  amidships. 
Small  raised  platforms  were  erected  in  the  centre 
of  each  raft,  and  on  three  of  these  w^e  stowed  our 
baggage.  The  fourth  raft  was  reserved  for  me;  and 
when  I.  had  rewarded  the  Sakai  for  his  pains  with  a 
wedge  of  coarse  tobacco  and  a  palm-leaf  bag  filled 
with  black  rock-salt,  I  took  my  seat  upon  the  plat- 
form prepared  for  my  accommodation  and  bade  my 
men  push  out  into  the  stream. 

"In  the  name  of  Allah,  the  Merciful,  the  Compas- 
sionate!" they  cried;  and  my  raft  slid  across  the 
glassy  surface  into  the  tug  of  the  current,  the  three 
others  following  us  in  single  file. 

Until  you  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  taste  of  it, 
the  peculiar  fascination  of  exploring  a  belt  of  coun- 
try in  which  no  white  man  and  very  few  human  be- 
ings of  any  kind  have  hitherto  set  foot  cannot  easily 
be  realized.  To  find  one's  self  penetrating,  the  first 
of  all  one's  kind,  into  one  of  Nature's  secret  fast- 
nesses, where  free  from  the  encroachments  of  man- 
kind she  has  worked  her  mighty  wull  during  aeons 
upon  aeons  of  unrecorded  time,  is  extraordinarily 
stimulating  to  the  imagination.     One  looks  round 


390  IN  CHAINS 

upon  a  world  in  the  fashioning  of  which  the  hand 
of  man  has  had  no  part.  Age  has  succeeded  age; 
race  has  swept  forward,  has  surged  up  and  has 
obHterated  race;  history  has  been  made  and  unmade 
a  thousand  times  by  myriads  of  puny  men;  but  all 
the  while  in  this  hidden  cranny  of  the  globe  the 
great  Mother  has  been  working  her  gradual  miracles. 
It  is  old,  old,  old;  older  than  record;  older  than 
speech;  older  than  man;  and  yet  for  you  it  is  newer 
than  aught  else,  a  secret  kept  faithfully  through  all 
the  ages  to  be  revealed  at  last  to  you.  You  look 
around  you  with  a  keen  delight,  with  eager  eyes  that 
find  a  fresh  interest  in  all  they  light  upon,  with  a 
heart  chastened  by  the  solemnity,  the  mystery  of 
this  unfrequented  wilderness.  The  awf ulness  of  your 
surroundings,  the  aloofness  from  your  fellows,  the 
sense  of  your  exclusive  privilege,  impart  to  you  a 
feeling  akin  to  that  by  which  the  newly  initiated 
priest  may  be  inspired  when,  for  the  first  time,  he 
lifts  the  veil  that  cloaks  the  inner  temple  of  his  wor- 
ship; but  here  there  is  no  grinning  idol  to  dispel 
illusion,  but  rather  a  little  glimpse  vouchsafed  to 
unworthy  man  of  the  vision  of  the  true  God. 

For  nearly  an  hour  we  glided  downstream  through 
long,  calm  reaches,  where  the  sunlight  flecked  the 
dancing  waters  between  banks  thickly  set  by  bam- 
boo thickets  backed  by  impenetrable  forest,  and 
each  bend  in  the  winding  river  revealed  yet  another 
perfect  picture  of  the  beauty  and  the  splendour  of 
this  jimgle  paradise.  We  were  heading  for  the  un- 
known, passing  thither  through  untrodden  ways,  and 


IN  CHAINS  391 

at  every  turn  we  looked  for  some  surprise,  some 
diflSculty  to  be  encountered  and  overcome,  some  wild 
prank  that  this  untamed  river  might  try  to  play 
upon  us.  It  lent  a  fresh  zest  to  our  journeying,  put 
an  additional  throb  of  excitement  into  the  scanning 
of  each  reach  of  running  water,  as  the  frequent  twist- 
ings  of  our  course  displayed  them  to  us  one  by  one. 
On  either  hand  low  hills  ran  steeply  upward  from 
the  water's  edge,  smothered  in  vast  clumps  of  bam- 
boos, the  stems  resembling  some  gigantic,  irregular 
palisade  crowned  by  bu"nch  above  bunch  of  feathery 
plumes,  the  highest  making  a  broken,  undulating 
line  of  fretwork  against  the  colourless  afternoon  sky. 
Near  the  river  brink  huge  ngerain  trees  leaned  out- 
ward, clasping  friendly  hands  above  our  heads, 
throwing  a  grateful  shade,  and  staining  the  waters  to 
a  deeper  olive  tint  with  their  sombre  reflections. 
From  root  to  branch  tip  they  were  festooned  with 
innumerable  parasites,  great  tree  ferns,  smooth  or 
shaggy,  with  their  roots  in  deep,  rich  mosses;  orchids 
of  many  kinds  with  here  and  there  a  little  point  of 
colour  marking  where  a  rare  blossom  nestled ;  creepers 
and  trailing  vines,  some  eating  into  the  marrow  of 
the  boughs  to  which  they  clung,  some  hanging  from 
the  branches  like  fine  drapery,  some  twined  about 
and  about  in  an  inextricable  network,  others  drop- 
ping sheer  to  the  stream  below  and  swaying  con- 
stantly as  the  current  played  with  their  tassels. 
It  was  a  fairyland  of  forest  through  which  the  river 
was  bearing  us,  and  I  lay  back  upon  my  raft,  feast- 
ing lazy  eyes   upon   the   constantly   shifting  scene, 


392  IN  CHAINS 

and  fully  conscious  of  my  own  supreme  well-being. 
How  fair  was  my  lot,  I  thought,  compared  with 
that  of  the  average  young  civil  servant  who  rarely 
got  much  beyond  a  pile  of  dusty  files  on  an  over- 
loaded oflBce  table. 

The  stream  ran  rapidly  with  a  merry  purring  sound 
and  the  rafts,  kept  end  on  to  the  current  by  polers 
at  bow  and  stern,  slid  forward  at  an  even  pace. 
Suddenly  we  whisked  round  a  sharp  bend,  and  be- 
fore we  knew  what  awaited  us  we  were  caught  in  the 
jaws  of  a  formidable  rapid.  I  was  aware  of  a  waste 
of  angry  water,  white  with  foam,  stretching  away 
in  front  of  us;  of  a  host  of  rugged  granite  blocks, 
\)lack  with  spray,  poking  their  sharp  noses  out  of  the 
river,  which  boiled  and  leaped  around  them;  of  an 
instant  acceleration  of  pace,  and  then  I  found  my- 
self standing  in  the  bows  of  the  raft,  punting  pole  in 
hand,  helping  my  forward  boatman  to  fight  the  evil- 
tempered  thing  which  a  moment  earlier  had  been 
the  placid,  smiling  river.  We  were  travelling  at  a 
headlong  pace  now  and  the  raft  reeled  and  wallowed 
and  canted  with  such  violence  that,  even  bareshod 
as  we  were,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  keep  our  footing 
on  the  slippery,  rounded  surfaces  of  the  bamboos. 
Of  the  length,  extent  and  difficulties  of  the  rapic' 
into  which  we  had  been  so  suddenly  tossed  we,  of 
course,  knew  nothing.  Of  prospective  dangers, 
however,  we  had  no  leisure  to  think,  for  we  were 
wholly  preoccupied  by  those  which  we  were  already 
beset,  and  every  instant  decisive  action  had  to  ht^ 
taken  to  meet  crowding  emergencies,  grasped,  met 


IN  CHAINS  rm 

and  dealt  with  all  in  a  breath.  At  the  end  of  a 
hundred  yards  of  running  fight  we  reached  a  point 
where  the  stream  was  split  in  twain  by  a  great  out- 
<^rop  of  granite,  and  in  a  flash  we  had  to  make  our 
selection  between  the  alternative  routes  offered. 
Fustinctively  we  chose  the  left-hand  channel,  which 
looked  the  more  likely  of  the  two,  and  on  we  whirled 
lit  a  perilous  pace.  The  battling  waters  broke  above 
my  knees;  the  uproar  of  the  stream  deafened  me;  the 
furious  pace  set  every  nerve  in  my  body  tingling 
gloriously;  the  excitement  of  each  new  danger 
averted  or  overcome  filled  me  and  my  Malaj^s  with  a 
perfect  intoxication  of  delight.  On  we  whirled, 
yelling  and  shouting  like  maniacs,  plying  our  clash- 
ing pole^,  leaping  down  fall  after  fall,  our  raft  sub- 
inerged,  our  souls  soaring  aloft  in  a  veritable  delirium 
of  excitement.  It  lasted  for  only  a  few  moments 
and  then  the  end  came — came  in  a  jarring  crash  u])on 
a  rock  which  we  had  failed  to  avoid,  a  violent  thrust- 
ing upward  of  one  side  of  the  raft  till  it  ran  almost 
on  edge,  a  sudden  immersion  in  the  wildly  agitated 
water,  and  three  sharp  yells,  stifled  ere  they  were 
fully  uttered.  Presently  I  and  my  two  Malays 
found  ourselves  clinging  to  an  outlying  projection 
of  the  rock  which  had  wrecked  us,  though  none  ol 
us  clearly  knew  how  we  had  got  there;  and  to  oiu- 
surprise,  except  for  a  few  cuts  and  bruises,  we  were 
entirely  unhurt.  The  raft,  bent  double  like  a  piece 
of  folded  paper,  lay  broadside  on  across  a  wedge  of 
granite,  one- side  lifted  clear  of  the  stream,  the  other 
imder  water,  the  two  ends  nearlv  meeting  on  the  far 


394  IN  CHAINS 

side  of  the  obstruction.  Such  of  my  gear  as  liad 
been  placed  upon  my  sitting  platform  had  been 
whirled  incontinently  downstream,  and  I  could  see 
portions  of  it  bobbing  and  ducking  on  the  tumble  of 
waters  thirty  yards  below  me.  Then,  one  by  one, 
these  bits  of  flotsam  dropped  suddenly  below  the  line 
of  sight,  disappearing  at  a  point  where  an  upleaping 
line  of  foam  seemed  to  cut  the  stream  at  right  angles 
from  bank  to  bank. 

Looking  upriver,  we  saw  the  second  of  our  rafts 
plunging  down  toward  us,  the  two  Malays  at  its 
bow  and  stern  trying  vainly  to  check  its  wild  career; 
and  even  as  we  watched,  the  catastrophe  befell  and 
they  were  left  clinging  to  a  rock  in  the  same  plight 
as  ourselves.  Their  raft,  breaking  away,  darted 
down  toward  us,  scraped  past  us  by  a  miracle,  and 
disajjpeared  in  a  shattered  condition  in  the  wake  of 
m\'  lost  baggage.  My  men  on  the  two  remaining 
rafts  had  become  aware  of  the  danger  in  time,  and 
we  could  see  them  making  fast  to  the  bank  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  upstream. 

Sitting  stranded  upon  a  rock  in  the  middle  of  the 
river  with  the  boiling  waters  of  the  rapid  leaping  up 
at  me  like  a  pack  of  hounds  when  its  kill  is  held 
aloft,  we  shrieked  suggestions  to  one  another  as  to 
V.  liat  should  be  our  next  move.  The  only  thing  was 
to  swim  for  it,  and  cautiously  I  let  my  bodj'  down  into 
the  torrent  and  pushed  out  vigorou.sly  for  the  shore. 
The  current  fought  mo  like  a  live  thing,  but  the 
river  was  narrow,  and  after  a  rather  desperate  strug- 
gle I  drew  myself  out  of  the  water  on  the  left  bank 


IN  CHAINS  395 

and  sat  there  panting  and  gasping.  I  had  come  into 
violent  coHision  with  more  than  one  rock  during  my 
sliort  swim  and  I  was  bruised  and  cut  in  many  places, 
but  it  seemed  to  me  then  that  I  had  escaped  almost 
scot  free,  and  I  and  my  fellows  screamed  congratula- 
tions to  one  another  at  the  top  of  our  voices  above 
the  roar  of  the  ra})ids.  Then  we  rose  to  our  feet 
and  picked  our  way  along  the  bank,  through  the 
thick  jungle,  to  rejoin  our  companions  farther  up- 
stream. 

Here  a  blow  awaited  us.  The  raft  which  had  been 
following  mine  proved  to  have  contained,  among 
other  things,  our  cooking  utensils  and  our  store  of 
rice,  and  its  loss  meant  that  our  prospects  of  having 
anything  to  eat  that  night  was  unpleasantly  remote. 
We  knew  that  there  existed  a  few  Malay  villages  on 
the  banks  of  the  lower  reaches  of  the  Sempam;  but 
what  might  be  the  distance  that  separated  us  from 
these  havens  of  refuge  we  could  not  tell.  "^Fhis  was  a 
problem  tJiat  could  only  be  solved  by  personal  in- 
vestigation, which  for  hungry  men  might  well  prove 
a  lengthy  and  therefore  painful  process. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done,  however,  was  to  find 
out  the  nature  of  the  river  below  the  rapid  which  had 
wrought  our  undoing,  as  we  still  hoped  that  it  might 
be  possible  to  lower  our  two  uninjured  rafts  down  the 
falls  by  means  of  rattan  painters.  Those  who  have 
never  seen  a  Malayan  forest  will  find  it  difficult  to 
realize  the  difficulty  which  "getting  out  and  walk- 
ing" jjresents  to  the  wayfarer  in  an  imfrequented 
portion  of  the  country.     The  rivers  in  sucli  localitie  . 


396  IN  CHAINS 

are  practically  the  only  highways,  and  the  jungle 
upon  their  banks  is  so  dense,  so  thorny,  so  filled  with 
urgently  detaining  hands,  that  progress  is  not  only 
very  slow,  but  speedily  saws  your  nerves  and  temper 
into  shreds.  I  bade  Saleh,  my  head  boatman,  follow 
me,  and  the  other  Malays  stay  where  they  were  until 
we  returned  to  them.  Then  I  climbed  back  along 
'he  steeply  shelving  bank  to  the  foot  of  the  rapid  in 
which  the  remains  of  my  raft  still  flapped  feebly, 
and  thence  scrambled  through  the  dense  forest  and 
underwood  to  a  point  whence  a  view  of  the  next 
veach  of  the  river  could  be  attained.  It  took  us  the 
best  part  of  half  an  hour  to  gain  this  point  of  van- 
tage; but  at  last,  clinging  with  one  hand  to  a  stout 
sapling,  I  swung  out  to  the  very  edge  of  the  forest- 
elad  hill  and  looked  about  me. 

Then  my  heart  stood  still  in  my  body,  for  there 
suddenly  was  revealed  to  me  the  appalling  danger 
which  we  had  escaped  by  providentially  coming  to 
grief  at  the  point  where  the  rapid  had  defeated  us. 
Certain  destruction  had  awaited  us  only  some  thirty 
yards  lower  downstream. 

From  where  I  clung  to  the  hillside  I  could  look 
ui)river  to  the  point  where  the  flotsam  from  the  raft 
had  dropped  below  the  line  of  sight,  and  their  abrupt 
disappearance  was  now  explained.  The  Sempam  ran 
here  through  a  narrow  gorge,  enclosed  by  steep  hills 
smothered  in  jungle;  but  at  the  top  of  the  reach  the 
river  fell  in  a  shaggy  white  curtain  down  the  face  of  a 
precipice,  which  was  walled  on  either  side  by  black 
dikes  of  granite,  clean-cut  as  though  hewn  by  a  single 


IN  CHAINS  '07 

stroke  of  some  giant's  axe.  With  an  intolerable 
roar,  the  whole  body  of  the  river  leaped  in  a  sheet 
of  foam  into  the  black  abyss  seventy  feet  below, 
throwing  great  jets  of  spray  aloft  that  hung  like  a 
mist  in  the  still  air,  drenching  rocks  and  trees  for 
many  yards  around  till  they  dripped  with  moisture, 
and  churning  up  the  waters  of  the  pool  into  which  it 
fell,  so  that  their  surface  was  a  boiling,  heaving 
mass  that  looked  as  white  and  almost  as  solid  as 
cotton  wool.  A  little  lower  downstream  the  pools 
widened  out  somewhat,  and  here  the  waters  were 
so  deep  a  green  that  they  were  nearly  black,  circling 
slowly  round  and  round  in  innumerable,  sullen- 
looking  eddies,  ere  they  shot  forward  again  upon  their 
course  to  plunge  down  fall  after  fall  in  never-ending 
strife.  Even  under  the  brilliant  afternoon  sunlight 
the  place  was  steeped  in  a  profound,  mysterious 
gloom. 

From  where  I  was  perched  I  could  see  for  near  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  along  the  river's  length — a  most 
unusually  extended  view  in  the  heart  of  a  Malayan 
jungle — -and  at  every  yard  of  the  way  Death  was 
written  in  unmistakable  characters  for  any  living 
thing  that  the  falls  might  succeed  in  sucking  into 
their  grip.  Had  we  taken  the  channel  on  the  right, 
instead  of  that  which  we  had  chanced  to  select^ 
nothing  could  have  saved  us;  had  our  raft  not  come 
to  wreck  exactly  where  it  did,  a  moment  later 
matchwood  would  have  been  made  of  it  and  of  us: 
for  once  within  the  clutch  of  the  upper  fall,  nothing 
could  have  saved  us  from  a  dreadful  death.     As  1 


398  IN  CHAINS 

gazed  at  the  masses  of  water  plunging  sheer  down 
the  face  of  the  rock,  I  reahzed  with  a  shock  how 
closely  I  and  my  fellows  had  looked  into  the  eyes  of 
death  so  short  a  while  before,  and  how  unthinkingly, 
how  light-heartedly  we  had  scampered  to  the  very 
brink  of  destruction  while  half  intoxicated  by  the 
fierce  joy  of  living, 

I  sent  Saleh  back  for  my  fellows,  and  sat  down 
where  I  was  to  await  their  coming.     I  wanted  a  ciga 
rette  to  aid  my  meditations  upon  man's  precarious 
tenure  of  life;  but  the  river  had  rendered  tobacco 
and  matches  alike  useless. 

The  insistent  roar  of  the  rapids  filled  my  hearing; 
the  wild  beauty  of  the  scene  held  me  spellbound; 
but  most  of  all  was  I  impressed  by  the  insolent  free- 
dom, the  vigour,  the  complete,  imrestrained  savagery 
of  the  river.  Here  was  a  stream  which  for  countless 
ages  had  leaped  and  thundered  down  this  granite- 
bound  pass,  had  slain  innumerable  living  things  in 
its  day  with  the  callous  cruelty  of  the  mighty,  and 
had  never  known  an  instant's  restraint,  a  moment's 
check,  a  second's  curbing  or  binding.  As  the  stream 
below  me  tossed  its  white  mane  of  spray  restlessly 
to  and  fro,  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  in  truth  some  wild 
monster  escaped  from  a  primeval  world,  charging 
down  this  rock-pent  defile,  instinct  with  life  and 
liberty.  The  very  roaring  of  those  resistless  waters 
seemed  to  me  a  shout  of  triumph  wherewith  they 
boasted  of  their  freedom;  their  furious  conmiotion 
mocked  aloud  at  the  restraints  of  nature  and  of  man. 
It  was  the  embodiment  of  unfettered  power,   this 


IN  CHAINS  399 

river — it  was  free,  free,  free — and  the  noise  of  its 
falls  set  my  nerves  quivering  with  a  sympathetic 
excitement. 

When  my  men  had  rejoined  me  we  pushed  on 
through  the  thick  jungle  and  by  dark  we  had  suc- 
ceeded in  passing  out  of  hearing  of  the  resonant 
thunder  of  the  falls.  But  there  were  other  rapids 
all  along  the  river,  and  the  music  of  the  troubled 
waters  was  constantly  in  our  ears.  We  camped 
on  a  sand  bank  by  the  river's  side,  and  we  went  to 
bed  supperless.  We  had  paid  tribute  to  the  river 
of  our  last  grain  of  rice,  and  Saleh,  my  head  boatman, 
who  had  been  selected  for  that  post  because  he  com- 
bined in  a  remarkable  degree  a  short  temper  and  a 
long  vocabulary,  expressed  himself  on  the  subject 
of  fate  and  of  our  situation  with  refreshing  lati- 
tude. 

The  dawn  broke  grayly  through  a  dense  and  drench- 
ing mist,  and  it  found  us  very  hungry  and  unhappy. 
We  made  an  early  start  and  scrambled  and  swarmed 
along  the  shelving  river  bank,  through  the  bamboo 
brakes,  the  thorn  thickets,  and  the  tangled  under- 
wood of  that  unspeakable  forest,  hour  after  hour, 
to  an  ever-increasing  accompaniment  of  famine  and 
fatigue.  It  was  not  until  the  afternoon  sun  was 
beginning  to  creep  down  the  sky  that  we  at  length 
reached  a  place  where  it  seemed  possible  again  to 
make  use  of  rafts  with  some  prospect  of  success. 
We  set  to  work  in  sullen  silence,  and  an  hour  later 
we  set  off  downstream,  looking  eagerly  for  a  village 
as  each  bend  was  rounded,  and  accepting  the  recur- 


400  IN  CHAINS 

rent  disappointments  with  such  philosophy  as  we 
could  muster. 

The  night  shut  down  upon  us  once  more,  but  we 
did  not  call  a  halt.  We  had  no  knowledge  concern- 
ing the  distance  that  still  separated  us  from  the 
nearest  human  habitation  and  we  were  running  a 
race  against  hunger — an  opponent  that  never  grants 
an  armistice.  We  were  already  so  spent  that  we 
dared  not  rest  lest  we  should  lack  the  force  and 
courage  to  renew  our  efforts,  and  the  pangs  we  were 
suffering — for  none  of  us  had  now  tasted  food  for 
five  and  thirty  hours — were  goads  that  pricked  us 
onward.  Therefore,  we  fumbled  and  groped  ©ur  way 
down  the  Sempam  with  the  dogged,  spiritless  per- 
sistency of  the  desperate.  Our  discomfort  was  com- 
pleted by  the  fact  that  we  had  got  ourselves  smoth- 
ered in  jungle  ticks,  crablike  monsters  that  fix 
their  claws  into  selected  nerve  centres,  whence 
they  can  only  be  withdrawn  at  the  cost  of  acute 
pain. 

At  about  half -past  eight  we  saw  a  point  of  light 
ahead  of  us  and  a  few  minutes  later  we  were  eagerly 
devouring  all  the  available  cooked  rice  in  the  little 
village  of  Cherok. 

"The  falls  of  this  river  are  very  difficult,  Tiian,'' 
said  a  village  elder  to  me,  as  I  sat  smoking  and  talk- 
ing to  the  people  of  the  place,  after  I  had  crammed 
myself  with  fat,  new  rice.  "They  are  very  difficult, 
and  no  man  may  pass  up  or  down  those  which  are 
of  the  largest  size.  Moreover,  even  we,  who  are 
children  of  the  river,  may  not  approach  the  lesser 


IN  CHAINS  401 

rapids  until  fitting  offerings  have  been  made  by  us 
to  the  spirits  which  have  in  them  their  abiding 
place.  Strangers  who,  being  smitten  by  madness, 
make  free  of  this  river  thrust  their  heads  into  a  noose 
whence  it  is  not  easy  to  draw  back. 

"The  great  fall,  which  is  full  twelve  fathoms  in 
height,  is  named  the  Fall  of  the  Kine-cleft  Bank, 
for  it  is  a  narrow  pass  such  as  giant  kine  might  make 
at  the  spot  where  they  were  wont  to  go  down  to 
water.  The  next  fall  is  named  the  Fall  of  Dew,  for 
by  reason  of  its  spray  the  rocks  and  trees  around  it 
are  perpetually  drenched  as  it  were  by  dew;  and  the 
last  of  all  is  the  Fish  Trap,  for  from  out  of  its  grip 
not  even  a  fish  can  escape. 

"Ah,  Tiian,  it  is  not  well  thus  to  tempt  the  Spirits 
of  the  Sempam,  for  they  are  very  vengeful,  and  if 
they  had  killed  you  a  great  shame  would  have  been 
put  upon  our  people.  Our  Spirits  are  orang  merd- 
heka — free  folk — who  care  not  at  all  for  raja  or 
overlord,  and  have  no  respect  even  for  white  men, 
Tuan,  before  whom  the  rajas  themselves  must  give 
way,  if  all  that  men  tell  us  be  true.  And  this,  too, 
Tuan,  the  Sempam  hath  taught  you  in  hunger  and 
in  travail,  it  will  bear  no  chains!" 

And  the  old  fellow  chuckled,  well  pleased  by  his 
jest  and  proud  of  the  prowess  of  his  native  stream. 
Fresh  from  my  view  of  the  falls  and  still  aching  from 
tlie  rough  handling  which  I  had  received  at  the 
hands  of  the  river,  my  thought  echoed  the  old  man's 
\'uunt.  The  wild  freedom  of  the  Sempam  was  what 
impressed  me — the  freedom  of  some  savage  creature. 


402  IN  CHAINS 

instinct  with  unrestrained  vitality  and  a  fierce,  splen< 
did  liberty. 

Nine  years  later,  by  which  time  unregenerate 
Pahang  had  become  a  solid  portion  of  the  British 
Protectorate,  and  I,  as  resident,  had  been  appointed 
to  preside  over  its  affairs,  I  visited  the  Sempam 
Falls  again. 

I  was  driven  to  them  from  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains in  a  smart  dog  cart  by  the  manager  of  a  mine, 
and  I  spent  the  night  in  a  well-appointed  bungalow 
after  dining  at  a  table  which  fairly  groaned  under  the 
good  viands  that  it  bore. 

From  end  to  end  of  the  falls  a  made  road  skirted 
the  right  bank  of  the  river  for  a  distance  of  about  a 
mile.  In  the  valley,  below  the  bungalow,  stood  a 
square  power  station  with  a  hideous  roof  of  cor- 
rugated iron.  From  it,  running  upward  upon  a  sort 
of  staircase  of  wooden  sleepers,  a  line  of  black  pipes 
three  feet  in  diameter  climbed  a  succession  of  steep 
hillsides  to  the  skyline  half  a  mile  away.  This  line 
of  pipes  communicated  with  a  solid  concrete  reser- 
voir, which  in  its  turn  was  fed  by  a  large,  square, 
wooden  flume,  which  burrowed  through  the  hills  like 
a  tar-smeared  snake,  and  rose  upon  a  gentle  incline  to 
the  head  of  the  Fall  of  the  Kine-cleft  Bank.  Here 
the  Sempam  had  been  dammed  across  from  bank  to 
bank  by  a  solid  wall  of  concrete.  Such  of  its  waters 
as  were  not  for  the  moment  needed  by  the  tyrannous 
white  men  were  suffered  to  flow  down  the  old  chan- 
nel; but  the  rest  of  the  river  was  cribbed  and  confined 


IN  CHAINS  403 

by  the  wooden  walls  of  the  flume,  was  stalled  like  a 
tame  ox  within  the  four  walls  of  the  reservoir,  was 
forced,  protesting  but  obedient,  into  the  unsightly 
piping,  and  at  the  power  station,  three  hundred  feet 
below,  was  compelled  to  yield  up  its  angry  strength 
to  the  service  of  man,  its  master,  in  order  to  work 
and  light  the  gold  mines  at  Raub,  seven  miles  away. 

I  listened  as  the  engineer  in  charge  told  me,  with 
the  air  of  a  lecturer  upon  anatomy,  how  many  gal- 
lons of  water  per  minute  went  to  the  pulsing  of  that 
once  free  river;  how  much  of  its  strength  was  taken 
for  the  electrical  works,  how  much  left  to  the  dimin- 
ished waters  of  the  torrent. 

The  scene,  as  I  stood  looking  down  at  it,  was  won- 
derfully little  changed  from  what  it  had  been  that  day 
long  ago  when  I,  first  of  all  my  kind,  had  gazed  in 
fascination  at  those  boisterous  falls.  On  the  left 
bank,  where  I  had  clung,  the  jungle  still  ran  riot  to 
the  skyline.  An  outcrop  of  white  limestone,  which 
I  remembered  having  noted,  stood  out  prominently 
as  of  old,  a  glaring  landmark,  bare  of  vegetation  on 
the  flank  of  one  of  the  higher  hills  at  the  foot  of  the 
falls.  Through  the  deeply  cleft  walls  of  granite  the 
river  still  danced  and  leaped  wildly,  though  with 
sadly  diminished  volume,  and  with  a  voice  that  was 
like  a  mere  whisper  compared  with  the  roar  and 
thunder  of  other  days.  Except  when  my  eyes  rested 
upon  tlie  works  of  man  upon  the  right  bank,  all  was 
as  beautiful  as  in  the  past.  But  the  supreme  free- 
dom of  the  river,  the  quality  which  for  me  had  had  so 
overmastering,  so  compelling  a  fascination, — had  van- 


404  IN  CHAINS 

ished  utterly.  The  valley  was  no  longer  one  of 
nature's  inviolate  and  secret  places,  and  the  river 
was  no  more  the  strong,  unfettered,  vainglorious 
monster  of  my  memory.  It  was  in  chains,  a  thrall 
to  man,  and  to  me  it  seemed  to  bear  its  gyves  with  a 
subdued  and  chastened  sadness  at  once  bitter  and 
heartbroken. 

The  next  morning  I  left  the  Falls  of  the  Kine-cleft 
Bank  and  rode  fifty  miles  to  the  residency  of  Kuala 
Lipis.  My  way  took  me  through  country  which  had 
once  been  wild,  where  now  the  great  trunk  road 
strung  village  to  village,  like  onions  on  a  string,  and 
the  whole  line  of  my  ride  was  marked  by  newly  oc- 
cupied plantations,  and  by  signs  of  the  commercial 
progress  and  material  development  which  white 
men  and  their  civilization  bring  in  their  train.  Then 
as  I  neared  my  home  and  turned  my  thoughts  to  the 
})iles  of  official  correspondence  which  I  knew  must  bo 
awaiting  my  return;  caught  sight  of  the  hurrying 
telegraph  peons,  and  remembered  how  at  the  end  of 
that  infernal  wire  there  sat  men  whose  business  it 
was  to  impede  me  with  instructions  concerning 
matters  which  they  imperfectly  comprehended;  as 
I  heard  the  pat,  pat  of  the  tennis  balls  on  the  court 
within  the  dismantled  stockade  and  saw  the  golfers 
tl riving  off  from  a  neighbouring  tee — suddenly  the 
thought  came  to  me  of  what  my  life  in  that  district 
had  wont  to  be  less  than  a  decade  earlier.  And 
then,  though  all  the  changes  around  me  had  been 
things  for  which  I  had  worked  and  striven  with  all 
my  heart  and  soul,  somehow  it  seemed  to  me  for  the 


IN  CHAINS  405 

moment  that  it  was  not  only  the  river  that  had  lost 
its  vitality  and  its  freedom.  Together  we  had 
shared  the  wild  life  which  we  had  known  and  loved 
in  the  past;  together  in  the  present  we  went  soberly, 
^vorking  in  chains. 


L'ENVOI 

To  My  Brethren  in  Malaya 

The  grim  Recording  Angel  turns  the  pages  of  the  Book, 

And  the  days  are  thrust  behind  us  past  recall — 
All  the  sorrows  that  we  tasted,  all  the  pleasure  that 
we  took 
In  that  life  we  shared  together,  Brothers  all ! 
But  to-day  the  forest  whispers  and  to-day  the  ungkas 
whoop, 
Where  the  big,  slow  river  lumbers  down  to  meet 
the  sun-lit  sea, 
And  the  village  drones  and  drowses  while  the  palm- 
fronds  lift  or  droop. 
For  the  old  life  glideth  onward  still — with  ne'er  a 
place  for  me. 

In  the  hut  and  in  the  palace,  in  the  sun-fleck'd  forest 

glade, 

Where  the  vast  trees  crowding  stagger  'neath  their 

load  of  fern  and  vine. 

In  that  world  of  untouched  Nature,  'mid  the  marvels 

God  hath  made, 

You  are  living  on  in  listlessness  the  life  that  once 

Avas  mine. 

Hark!     I  catch  the  thud  of  tom-toms,  and  the  drone 

of  old-world  song, 

The  sleepy  hum  of  insects,  and  the  rush  of  startled 

beast — 

And  I  lack  the  words  to  tell  you,  O  my  Brothers,  how 

I  long 

For  the  glory  and  the  glamour  and  the  wonder  of 

the  East. 

4o« 


L'ENVOI  407 

You  be  far — too  far — my  Brothers,  gnarled  brown 
faces  that  I  know, 
Men  who  dealt  with  me  aforetime,  friend   with 
friend  and  heart  with  heart — 
Our  paths  lie  worlds  asunder,  since  the  Fates  would 
have  it  so. 
For  behold  "the  Order  reached  me,"*  and  to-day, 
old  Friends,  we  part. 
Yet  you  will  not  quite  forget  me,  O  my  Brothers 
over  sea — 
Let  me  keep  that  fond  illusion:  it  will  help  me  on 
my  way — 
And  I  pray  you  tell  the  little  ones,  who  gather  round 
your  knee, 
Of  those  days  we  saw  together  in  the  land  of  the 
Malay. 

And  mj'^  thanks  are  yours,  my  Brothers,  for  a  thou- 
sand acts  of  grace. 
For  the  trust  wherewith  you  trusted,  for  the  love 
wherewith  you  loved. 
For  your  honest,   open  greetings,   lifted   hand   and 
friendly  face. 
For  the  kindness  that  you  dealt  me  when  through 
all  your  land  I  roved. 
It  was  mine  to  toil  and  struggle,  it  was  mine  to  war 
with  wrong. 
It  was  mine  to  labour  for  you,  aye,  to  sorrow,  hope, 
and  yearn; 
But  I'll  shout  it  from  the  house-tops  from  Barbados 
to  Hong-Kong — - 
If  to  you  I  rendered  service,  I  from  you  had  mofft  fo 
learn. 

HicH  Clifford. 


'.SWaA  jam/)(i/ A«i«m—"  The  Order  bath  come!"     A  Malayan  euphemism  signifying 
that  such-anonc  has  died. 


C 


'■'/^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Book  Slii)-35in.-9,'62(D2218s4)428(i 


UCLA-College  Library 

PR  6005  C609f  1922 


College 
Library 


